Outtakes: The Companion to the Brave New… Series
by AnneRG
Summary: Because a million events can happen at the same time as the main story…  Multiple pairings. Rated M just in case
1. Not Meant to Happen

**Title: **Not Meant to Happen

**Pairings: **Remus/Tonks

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **Companion to the chapters 39 and 40 of _Brave New Hope_

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belokgs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

**Summary:** Tonks has something important to tell her husband.

******************A/N: **Because so many things happen at the same time and not all of them fit in the main plotlines of the Brave New... Series, I decided that this would be the best way to give you a little peak into some of my secondary characters' (punctually also the main ones) lives. That said, from time to time, some out-takes may make an appearance :D Here's the first, featuring Remus and Tonks.

******************July 1997**

There was something odd going on with his wife, Remus thought as he observed the woman in question with narrowed eyes from the small cooking area of their sitting room… Something odd and downright… disturbing. What that 'something' was, though, he simply had no clue about…

Someone from an outsider's point of view might have not noticed it at all – after all, it did seem like a pretty normal evening: they'd quietly made it back home after a rather disappointing Order's meeting at the Burrow, had dinner after Remus had put something together for them to eat and then he'd gotten in charge of the cleaning – which was usually Tonks's task but which, given her having been a bit under the weather lately, had been taken over by her (very devoted, slightly overprotective) husband. All in all, the poster-picture of normal.

Except it wasn't.

Starting with Tonks having spent all day avoiding his questions concerning her trip to St. Mungo's that morning, passing through her uncharacteristic lack of attention during the Order meeting that afternoon and ending with the fact that she was _humming _while filling auror paperwork on the sofa – an activity generally filled with all sorts of curses against said paperwork and whomever had assigned her to do it in the first place – there were plenty of alerting signals. Something was definitely up, Remus thought.

Maybe he was overreacting, he admitted to himself in his usual diplomatic self. After all, it was clear Dora looked better than she'd had in days – her face was much more colourful now, as opposed to the pale, ghoulish person who's walked around their flat lately, not to mention her hair, that night presenting a dark pink tone closer to her usual bubblegum pink than it had been in days due to her lack of ability to morph when feeling ill. She had even managed to, so far, keep her dinner down, which was quite a victory, bearing in mind how hard an achievement that had been in the past few days. Those were obvious reasons to be cheerful, no doubt, but there was something… overboard about her behaviour. He loved seeing her happy more than anything else in the world – no one, especially not himself, could deny that. Still, she was _too_ happy. Even for her, especially when that was combined with all the secrecy that had been surrounding her all day.

His eyes remained on her through the following minutes while he waited for the kitchen to finish cleaning itself by magic, waiting for some sort of gesture or action that would reveal whatever she was up to. But it just went on: she just kept smiling in a absent-mindedly open fashion and humming The Weird Sister's latest single under her breath as she filled in her usually so-hated paperwork – which, that day, was distinctively larger in quantity than usual. Kingsley had, after all, kept her on desk duty lately due to her health issues and, secretly, at Remus's request too.

Maybe that was it, he thought, a bit nervously – maybe she'd found out he'd gone to Kingsley and asked him to keep her grounded. Maybe all that smiling and cheery behaviour was her rejoicing at the thought of whatever vendetta she had plotted against him – she might be one of the nicest people he knew but, Merlin, she could be mean when someone pushed her enough into it. Likely, it was the Black side of her genetics kicking in that made her that way…

After taking a moment to check if the kitchen was perfectly tidy already, Remus took a deep breath and approached the sofa she was sitting on. What was it they said about taking the erumpent by the horns? He thought, swallowing hard. "You seem distinctively jolly tonight," he observed.

Tonks looked at him and smiled. It wasn't a plotting smile or a mean one, so that gave him hope that he wasn't about to get into trouble. He was just obsessing, he told himself as his wife put down the piece of parchment she'd been holding. "I have reasons to," she replied. "Among which there's the fact that there was no puking whatsoever today. Not since this morning, at least. It's a reason to celebrate all around, don't you think?"

Alright, so she was glad to be doing better. That was it… "The guys at St. Mungo's certainly know what they're doing," Remus observed. "Though you still haven't shared what they told you exactly."

She simply nodded before patting the sofa cushion by her side. "Take a seat, Remus."

He raised his eyebrows but complied. _Take a seat_ wasn't usually the way to start a pleasant conversation… "Dora…"

"So, how was your day?" she asked, interrupting him as she swung her legs onto his own, shifting into a lounging position.

He frowned. "Dora, I don't think this is the time…"

"Hey, let me decide when it's the time and it isn't," she told him. "I just need a moment, okay? So, go ahead and tell me how your day was while I have my moment." She used her hand to tuck a strand of her dark pink, chin-length hair behind her ear in a rather casual fashion. "Well, I'm listening."

Remus sighed absently but proceeded to indulge her. "It was a perfectly calm day, as usual. I left home early, dropped you off at your parents' place, as you probably remember."

"Tricked me into visiting my Mom, ganged up with her against me and stood idly by as she dragged me kicking and screaming to St. Mungo's sounds more like it," she pointed out, narrowing her eyes as resentfully as being aware of how much she owed to that visit to the hospital allowed her.

"We did it for your own good," Remus replied, his hands absently rubbing her legs resting on his lap. He couldn't say he and his in-laws had the closest relationship ever known to the world. In a way, he understood it perfectly – nobody planned to have their only child married to a guy thirteen years older, with a dangerous affliction as baggage and a long history of being completely penniless most of the time (regardless that wasn't quite an issue anymore). Still, when it came to Tonks's own good, there was no doubt any resentment would be ignored in her favour. It was all for her own good. "Don't be stubborn Nymphadora."

She narrowed her eyes again at the mention of her full name but didn't say a word – it wasn't the time. "So, after you and my mother _stabbed me on the back,_ what did you do?"

He had to chuckle at her drama. "Well, I went to work at the twins' shop, put out a fire for them before the clock reached eleven – no permanent damage, by the way, only minor hair charring on George's part – and pushed some paperwork for the launch of their new range of products. Oh, and simultaneously to all this I spent all day trying to get a hold of you at the aurors' department – strangely, one of the trainees kept indicating you were taking a break every time I called." He looked at her pointedly. "An awful lot of breaks you're taking these days, hum, Dora?"

"Hey, you're the one who's been telling me to take it easy for my own good," Tonks justified mildly. It was true she _had _gotten that poor, young trainee to cover for her – the kid was so green and excited about actually working with the real aurors that he would have donated a kidney with no questions asked if any of them asked him to – but, in all honesty, the news she had to give him weren't the kind someone broke via a floo call.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it was all about taking it easy for your heath's sake," he said dryly. "But, also, I did floo your mother hoping she could fill me in your trip to the hospital since you were so… absent. She basically told me to go lump it, by the way."

"She told you what I told her to tell you," Tonks pointed out.

Remus sighed. "Merlin, Dora, what's so bad that you can't tell me? Is it… contagious or something? If it is and you're afraid I'm infected already, I'm sure I can live with it."

"What? No, it's not _contagious_!" Tonks said, her tone and expression making it sound like he'd just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "And if it was, I'm pretty sure your kind is completely immune."

He frowned at her use of the words. '_Your kind'_. It wasn't that they offended him. He thought them himself more often than he liked to admit. Certainly more than his wife cared for, which only made them sound more foreign coming from her lips. "You mean werewolves?" he asked in a low tone just to make sure he was getting it right. It was true Werewolves were much more resistant to certain afflictions and injuries than most people. It was likely the one… 'advantage' of being one, as opposed to the hundreds… no, thousands of reasons why that was a fate he wouldn't wish to anyone, not even his worst enemy.

She gave him another 'are you stupid?' look. "No! I meant _guys_. As in male specimens of the _human_ kind. When do I ever refer werewolves as 'your kind', you big lump?"

Well, that sounded more like her, he easily recognized. "Well, you're not being particularly clear right now, are you, Dora?" he defended himself. "Can you just get to the point? I mean, is this all…is this about your…?" He vaguely pointed at her middle and looked away. "You know."

Not very far from the mark, are you? She thought. "My lady parts? That's what you're asking?" she asked, half-amused at seeing him blush. "Why, you're just adorable when you get all embarrassed, Remus."

He didn't smile in return, slightly annoyed at her teasing. "Dora, can you _please _just answer the question? What happened at St. Mungo's?"

She sighed. Alright, so the teasing was mostly her way of keeping the nerves from freaking her out too much, Tonks admitted to herself. It wasn't every day she had to break such news to her husband. That she was _knocked up_. And the closer she got to doing it, the louder her heart beat, the tighter her throat became…

"Well," she started, "they gave me this potion for the nausea – it should cure the most of it."

"The most of it?" he asked, worried. "Can't it cure it all?"

"Not really," she mumbled slowly, starting to feel jumpy and uncomfortable to the point of shifting back into a sitting position. "This sort of… hum… _illness_ takes some time to… well, cure."

"Merlin, Dora, what are you trying to say?" he asked, now alarmingly concerned. The worst scenarios were crossing his mind and he couldn't tell which one was more horrific than the other. "How long is that 'some time'?"

She swallowed hard. It was then. She couldn't bring herself to just say it – the nerves were too many. He'd have to meet her halfway. "At this rate I'd say… seven months and three weeks," she declared, doing the math. "Give or take a few. It's not always accurate, really."

He just looked at her and she could tell he was completely clueless at the number she'd thrown at him. Likely, he was trying to figure out where she'd gotten such a precise prediction for a 'cure'. That was _just _like Remus. Being perceptive when one didn't want him to and thick as a brick wall when one wished he'd figure it all out.

"Wh… what…?"

She huffed. "Merlin, you're gonna make me say it, aren't you?" she asked in frustration. "I'm not ill. I'm _pregnant_."

And so it was out. The shift on his facial expression was impossible not to notice. From confusion to pure, full-blown panic. Panic that Tonks couldn't help matching herself… Because it was normal, right? A pregnancy… a baby… It was a big change. An _huge _one, for two people who'd only come to terms with their feelings for each other little more than a year before – especially considering one of those two people, namely one commonly referred as her husband, always avoided the matter of children like it was the black plague. So, yes, panic had to be a perfectly normal reaction, bearing in mind the circumstances.

"Hum, Remus?" she said, barely letting it out in a whisper. "Please say something."

He didn't. Not for several seconds, at least. "This wasn't meant to happen," he mumbled.

Tonks frowned slightly but sighed, recognizing the whole pregnancy had come in a very, very unfortunate time. She wished circumstances were better – usually, she tended to think that anyone had to be mad to bring a child into a full-blown war. Mad or really unlucky. Yet, she didn't feel unlucky. Part of her already felt so attached to that little peanut-sized being lying deep down in her womb that she'd do anything for it despite having just learned of its existence that morning. It terrified her and made her feel like the happiest person on Earth at the same time. "I know," she finally said, not really noticing that, by her side, Remus was deep in panic mode again. "We're always so careful with this kind of… protection thing. But I guess nothing is foolproof – taking potions, casting spells… For all that's worth, I really had no clue I… had a bun in the oven until the guys at St. Mungo's told me. I really thought I had some sort of stomach bug. A literal one. So, welcome to the 'I'm shocked' club. And, for Merlin's sake, try not to leave me talking to myself!" she complained when she noticed he was barely listening to her.

He just turned to her and didn't say anything. His face was expressionless. "This wasn't meant to happened."

"You've already said that!" she told him, frustrated. "Say something new! A sentence with more than five words, preferably. You're freaking me out!"

"What do you want me to say?" he replied, his voice just a little higher than before and full of frustration.

"That you're happy. That you're not. That you don't care either way!" she told him, now close to yelling. "You never say a bloody word about how you feel about having children, so right now I need anything! _Anything_ that lets me know how you feel about this and doesn't consist of you pointing out that 'this wasn't meant to happen'!"

"It wasn't!" he replied, verging exasperation as he got up. "None of this was supposed to happen. My kind doesn't _breed_. My kind doesn't even marry, for Merlin's sake! _This_ shouldn't have happened, Dora."

Tonks didn't notice how tightly she had her lips pressed together until she felt herself very nearly biting her upper lip open. That wasn't happening. That _couldn't_ be happening. Not to her. Not to them. "So, not only don't you want this baby but also you're sorry you married me," she said very slowly, like she was trying to understand it herself. "That's just _great_. Bloody spectacular, really," she told him sarcastically.

"I didn't say that," he replied quietly. But in a way, he had, hadn't he? It was just a matter of semantics. "But I never should have put you in this position. I never should have put you in this risk. Look what it led to!"

"What it led to? I'm pregnant! Women have been getting pregnant from millennia!"

"Not from my kind," he said, watching as colour slowly drained from her hair and covered her face, only illustrating her anger further.

"Stop calling it '_your kind_'!" she yelled. "Just because, a night every month you turn furry and a bit rabid, it doesn't make you any less human than I am! So _stop _using that as an excuse!"

"You really don't understand, Dora, do you? It's called a curse for a reason," he spat back. A curse that, for all he knew, could be hereditary. Only Merlin knew what she might be carrying. How badly it could tear her apart. How it would be his fault…

He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe as horrific thoughts that somehow could beat the ones that had ran though his mind back when he was wondering what terrible illness could be afflicting her crossed his mind. He couldn't bear looking at her with those images in his head, with that look of utter disappointment in her face. He wanted to hold her and apologize for his words but couldn't bring himself to. He simply couldn't deal with anything and her presence wasn't helping at all.

The solution was simple and raw. He had to go. Where and for how long, though, were mysteries to him… With that conclusion, he turned on his heels and walked away. Just walked.

"Where are you going now, damn it?"

"Away," he responded shortly, making his way to the door of the flat.

"Away _where_?"

"I don't know," he replied.

"You can't just leave like this!" she told him angrily asked then as he opened the door and stepped out. "You can't just walk away when you want to without a bloody word! Damn it, Remus are you coming…?"

She didn't have a chance to finish as he vanished in front of her eyes before she could. She couldn't believe it. She honestly couldn't. The whole scene replayed in her head and it just made her want to laugh. Laugh at how ridiculous it was. Because Remus wasn't that guy. He wasn't the one who walked out on his pregnant wife. It seemed like something straight out of those radio soap operas she knew Kingeley's elderly assistant wept for every afternoon at four.

_This isn't happening, this isn't happening,_ she told herself, covering her mouth with a hand as she choked back a sob while still staring at the spot where her husband had stood minutes before.

She closed her eyes and only then felt the tears falling. Her eyelids remained closed and closed. She didn't dare opening them. Because then she'd know it wasn't all just a bad dream.

* * *

His watch told him one hour and a half had passed since he'd left. It felt like days. Long tortuous ones.

Remus wasn't sure why he'd come there out of all places. His parents' old cottage in the woods. The place he had inhabited until little more than one year before, when Tonks had finally managed to break through his defences. The place where he came every full moon to lock himself up and transform into his most dangerous form. Perhaps his true form, he considered.

Falling in love with Nymphadora Tonks, such a bright, original person, had been unexpected and unwelcome at first. Letting her into his life had been a struggle against his most cautious side. Marrying her had been an impulse that he'd mostly seen as a blessing until that day – secretly, he'd always wondered if he'd done the right thing. If what they had was worth making her an outcast.

So many doubts… and they had all crashed into him that evening in the form of their child. He didn't know what to think of it, how to feel about it. Terrified. Panicked. That was for sure. Either about what it might be or about whether he'd make a good father or not. If, for some miracle, that child turned out to be normal, it would be an outcast too. The child of a werewolf, of a monster… Merlin, maybe Tonks and that baby were better off without him around. Maybe him not going back would be the best solution for everyone – he'd be one less influence in screwing up his child…

A loud sound that seemed like some sort of crack interrupted his thoughts, making him look around. He recognized it – the sound of a house-elf materializing out of thin air. But before he had the chance to spot it, a twin sound came and he was all alone. The only thing different in the room afterwards was the little red envelope resting on the nearby table.

He got up from the battered sofa he'd been sitting on and circled it, approaching the table. It was a howler, he realized in surprise. Someone had sent him a howler. But who? He wondered. Dora? He didn't have to wonder further as, as soon as he touched the envelope, it started to float on air and opened. He only had the time to sit down, preparing himself for the loud wave of noise.

And, surprisingly, it wasn't his wife's voice that came.

"_I simply can't believe what I've just heard about you, Moony!" _it yelled, shocking him beyond words. The voice was undeniably familiar and, for a fraction of a second, he could swear it belonged to his late best friend. James Potter.

It didn't, he concluded at some point – not only because the dead couldn't possibly send anyone a howler but also because he noted the pitch of that voice was slightly lower. It wasn't James – it was Harry.

"_You left Tonks? Tonks _and_ your kid? How can you possibly do such a thing to her? Leave her to raise another fatherless kid by choice? I don't care whatever the reason is – I'm sure nothing short of a life or death situation is enough to justify it."_

The words hit him like a curse and, by Merlin, they couldn't belong to the Harry he knew. They had to belong to someone wiser, older… with much more baggage to carry.

"_Knowing that when people like my parents gave their life to same their child's, you could gave up on yours so easily… It makes me ashamed. It would make my father ashamed to know one of his best friends, the person who I admired so much as a person and a teacher, a role model could actually be such a _coward."

The voice ceased along with the flames that turned the massage into dust and Remus just sat there, frozen. He hadn't imagined it. The howling. He'd felt the very floor trembling beneath his feet. It hadn't been his conscience but it could have so easily been… Because, deep down, it didn't tell him anything he didn't subconsciously know. He was a coward. Just a coward. He'd left the woman he loved. He'd left the child they'd made. He'd considered never coming back…

He didn't recognize that person – that part of him. It made him sick. And, as opposed to him, there was Harry: he didn't even know that baby Dora was carrying and he was already fighting for it… for the innocent. Maybe he saw himself in it – the fatherless kid. After all, until Sirius had come around, there had barely ever been a father-like figure in Harry's life. Seeing him sticking up for his unborn child made Remus proud of his late best friend's son. It also made him feel like the worst person in the world.

And it all made him realize one thing: by walking out he might have just made the worst mistake of his life…

**A/N2: Hope you liked my first attempt at writing an out-take. I loved doing it :D Feedback is welcome! Review!**


	2. Ten Steps

**Title: **10 Steps to Unwillingly Become a Bridesmaid

**Pairings: **George/OC

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **Companion to the chapter 42 of _Brave New Hope_

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

**Summary:** A series of apparently irrelevant events leads Izzy Black to reach some clarity.

**A/N:**Well, I had promised a second outtake for last week – real life got in the way as it has been for months… But here it is… finally. Anyway, there will be a few sentences in French thrown in the middle (courtesy of Fleur), whose translations are available at the end.

By the way, am I the only one experiencing errors when trying to replace chapters (to make a little edit)? The site has been cranky lately.

**Ten Steps to ****Unwillingly Become a Bridesmaid **

**Step 1 – Stay behind at home to help your mum preparing your brother's birthday present.**

"Are you sure the spell will work? Or last, for that matter?" Izzy asked her mother, looking at the already gift-wrapped box resting on her parent's bed, on which she sat. "We don't know how long Harry will be gone. What if it just stops working at some point?"

Mia sighed as she stood by the other side of the bed. "Let's not think of the worst-case scenario, Izzy," she told her daughter. "It worked earlier when we tested it – I don't see why it wouldn't work later or why it wouldn't last… Gabe cast it himself yesterday and he has experience with this sort of charm – he's certain it will last long enough. He knows how important this is."

Izzy nodded silently. "I hope so…" she mumbled.

"Me too," Mia agreed.

"I'm sure Harry will like it, though. It was a pretty good idea," she observed. "He doesn't have any clue, does he?"

"I honestly doubt worrying about birthday presents is the highest of his priorities, honey," Mia told her daughter just as Mary reminded them of her presence, cooing from the spot where she proudly managed to sit up nearly unsupported on the bed by Izzy's side, flanked by a couple of her favourite stuffed toys.

The little girl curiously tried to reach for Harry's present, likely seeing it as a toy, but was quickly stopped by Izzy who snatched her younger sister to her lap. Although Mary didn't seem all that happy at first for having been pulled away from the shiny wrapped-up box, she was quickly distracted by a stuffed blast-ended skrewt – Hagrid's gift when she'd been born – that her older sister held just millimetres out of her reach.

"So," Izzy said, returning her attention to her mother. "You're stressed again."

"Hum?" Mia asked, distractedly looking out the window.

"I said you were stressed," she repeated.

"Oh, I'm just a little worried. It's nothing you should worry about," Mia lied.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "I know you better than that, Mum."

Mia sighed. "It's alright, Izzy. A mother's bound to worry when one of her babies leaves the nest, especially when it is to somewhere not as safe as one would desire… You'll know that when you have your own babies, sweetheart."

"That's what she always says," she told Mary, who absently kept waving her stuffed toy around.

"Because it's the truth," Mia pointed out, sitting by Izzy's side and reaching to caress the baby's head. "Now, stop worrying about me because you're far too young for that and go have fun. I was under the impression you were supposed to go join Harry at the Burrow and meet your friends there for lunch."

"I can stay a little longer, you know – it's little past eleven. A bit too early for lunch," Izzy pointed out.

Mia shook her head. "You go and spend time with your friends. I'll be just fine – little Mary here will keep me occupied," she said, picking up the little girl from her daughter's lap. "You, your brother and your Daddy are enough of a the handful to keep Mummy's head full, aren't you?" she asked the baby, smiling.

Mary just smiled and grabbed a fistful of her mother's hair.

Izzy stood up, then, sighing. "If you're sure…"

"Very sure," Mia said, standing up too, holding Mary on her hip. "Oh, and don't forget to let the others know about the plans for tomorrow."

Her daughter nodded before heading out. "I won't."

**Step 2 – M****ediate a sensitive C-word situation.**

Although her mother seemed to be so certain she would be just fine despite the amount of stress that she was clearly trying to hide, Izzy decided to put the backup plan in practice just in case and made a stop at her room before heading further down. There, she picked up a discarded blank piece of parchment and wrote a small note addressed to her grandmother.

_Mum's stressed_. _Rescue her_, she wrote, signing her name before folding the parchment. She couldn't think of anyone better than Lulu to get her mother's mind of problems when not even her father seemed to be succeeding at that – after all, her grandmother (who would cringe at the thought of being referred to as a 'grandmother') had been doing that all her life. Incredibly well, in fact, considering they had such different personalities, Lulu's more free-spirited one contrasting with her mother's more committed and worrying one – Izzy supposed her mum must have taken after Gabriel on that, as he seemed to be more intense one in the gene-pool…

She ran into Kreacher just as she stepped out of her room and he quickly offered to send the letter for her – he always offered to do things for her, Harry or her mum (she supposed it meant he was glad to have them around and found it rather sweet of him, rarely having the heart to say 'no', even when it was silly things such as combing the feathers of her quills…).

When she got downstairs, sounds of young laughter came from the kitchen followed by her father's voice, making her smile.

"Now, mate, do we have a problem?" Sirius was asking little Alex just as she entered the room. "Do I have to tickle you some more or can we skip the torture part straight into you eating that porridge with no fuss?"

Her little brother shook his head, giggling deviously. "No pwidge, Daddy!" Then spotting her, Alex pointed at her. "Izzy, I want up!"

"I don't think so," she replied, eyeing her brother suspiciously. "What are you up to today, you little monster?" Izzy jokingly asked, making the little boy giggle some more.

Sirius groaned. "He somehow got his hands on a giant chocolate bar I had stashed in one of the cupboards. One of the _overhead _cupboards."

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "How did he do that? He's barely tall enough to reach my hip."

Sirius shrugged. "_I_'d like to know. My best guess is that this is the result of his first signs of magic – he's practically two and a half. I suppose it's around this age they tend to happen." He turned to his son and narrowed his eyes. "You couldn't have started out by turning Kreacher green and scaled the way I did, could you?"

"Dad!" Izzy said, disapprovingly. "You turned Kreacher green and scaled?"

"According to my cousin Andromeda – Tonks's mum, you know? It was the Summer before she went to Hogwarts and she spent it here with Cissy while her parents took Bellatrix on a trip around Europe as a 'reward' for her behaviour at Hogwarts . As you can probably imagine, the notion of prime behaviour in this house back then was quite different from the one we look forward to now…"

"I imagined so," Izzy mumbled.

"Anyway," Sirius said, looking forward to changing the subject, "I turned the little creep into the reptile my dear mother made him act like. And, since we're talking about first displays of magic, I never came around to ask what yours had been. Or when."

"Oh, I think I was three. I threw a bag of flour at Harry with magic," she informed him, nonchalant. "It was only half-full, though. Mum was baking a cake at the time. Chocolate, I think. Something dark."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "You remember a lot for that age."

"Not really. But Lulu did tell this story over and over and _over_ again right up until she moved out. She has pictures and everything," Izzy explained.

He snorted. "Of _course_ she does," he said. "I'm curious, though. What did Harry do to deserve a flour bag thrown at his face? I was under the impression he was a rather decent brother."

"He was. Still is. But we had our moments," she said. "According to Lulu, he made the terrible mistake of mocking my cake-batter-covered face. I thought I deserved a reason to laugh at him as well, thus the flour."

Sirius laughed at that though, deep down, he felt a little sad that he hadn't been there to witness that himself. "Well, let's hope _this one,_" he said, mock-glaring at his son, "keeps his sticky fingers and his sticky new magic away from the things Mummy and Daddy hide away from his reach. Or else I'm afraid we'll have a severe tickling punishment situation."

The little boy just giggled. "I wanna pway, Daddy!"

"No playing until that bowl's empty," he says, pointing at the porridge in front of his son. "Mummy's orders – you know Daddy can't disobey Mummy's orders, mate. She's got me hooked."

"No, Daddy! Yuck!"

"Ah, come on. You know you like that stuff. That's just all that chocolate talking," Sirius complained.

"Chocwate!" the little boy happily repeated, pushing the porridge bowl away, hopeful.

"You just had to say the C-word, didn't you, Daddy? Now he'll never let it go," Izzy said, sighing.

"Stubborn little rascal," Sirius mumbled.

"Wonder who he got that from, Daddy?"

He narrowed his eyes at his daughter. "Smartarse, hum? Let's see you give it a try and getting him to eat," Sirius dared her, switching to another chair and leaning against the back of it, arms crossed, so Izzy could take the one between him and Alex's high chair. "Well?"

His daughter grinned. "Alright," she said, making her way to her younger brother. The little boy grinned up at her and reached up with his arms, hoping to be freed from his high chair. Izzy shook her head, though, and reached down to murmur something to his ear instead. She pulled away a little, afterwards, in order to sit on the chair her father had freed for her and the little boy gave her what seemed to be the toddler version of a sceptical look. "No!"

Izzy shook her head. "_Yes_ – it's a special sort that tastes different, Alex. Only really smart, special boys get to eat it." She reached for the spoon and proceeded to give him a spoonful of porridge, which he didn't fight in the slightest. "See?"

The little boy seemed a bit reluctant but ended up nodding. Seconds later, all has changed and he was all smiles, apparently convinced to the point of stealing back the spoon and taking over feeding himself.

Sirius stared at his son, then. "What the…?" He turned to his daughter abruptly. "What did you tell him?"

"The 'truth'," she said, smiling. "That porridge is actually a fancy word to describe this really special sort of chocolate that tastes just a little bit different."

Sirius stared some more. "How did you think of that?" he said, now murmuring so the little boy, happily eating at the moment, wouldn't hear it.

Izzy shrugged. "Mum tried to convince me of something similar too about some weird lumpy food she wanted me to eat… only it didn't work because seven-year-olds aren't half as gullible as two-year-olds."

Sirius snorted. "I suppose I'll just have to thank Merlin for that," he mumbled, chuckling as he watched his youngest son sitting in his high chair, eating his food without a fuss, having been so easily fooled. "So, I take it you're heading to the Burrow now."

Izzy nodded. "Provided Harry and Ginny aren't too busy snogging the life out of each other right now and completely oblivious to the rest of the world, they're waiting for me to show up."

"Well, Izzybel, don't behave too well over there – we have a reputation to uphold," her father instructed her.

Izzy laughed. "I'm pretty sure Alex can uphold it for both of us," she said, turning back to her little brother as she stood up. She kissed the top of his head and ruffled his dark hair. "See you later, Monster."

"Bah," Alex growled, trying to replicate the sound he tended to associate with the word 'monster'.

"Bah to you too," she replied with a laugh. "Bye, Daddy."

She headed to the fireplace just as her father replied and stepped into it, throwing a handful of floo powder and disappearing in the midst of green flames.

**Step ****3 – Hang out with the bride's future sister-in-law.**

There was always a characteristic smell to the Burrow. Not just the food-related one, another that reminded her of a home away from home. Somewhere where she'd always be safe. It was understandable, Izzy thought, stepping into the welcoming, yet empty kitchen.

She thought of making her way to the door in order to peak into the living room to see if anyone was there – it just seemed plain rude to burst all the way upstairs without at least greeting someone first… Yet, just as she was walking there, the door leading outside opened behind her.

"On there you are," she heard Ginny saying just as she was turning around. "Merlin, you had to be timing your entrance because I've _just _finished setting the table outside."

Izzy laughed. "Just call it a sixth sense. Sorry it took me so long – I had to mediate a chocolate situation back at home."

Ginny raised her eyebrows as she took a seat at the table. "A what?"

The other girl sighed, sitting too. "Don't ask – it's plain silly, really."

"Right, so… I take it all the planning for tomorrow's done?"

"There wasn't much planning to do, really – Harry said and I quote that he didn't want any 'big party, bug lunch or big dinner' to celebrate his birthday. He didn't say anything about a breakfast celebration, which doesn't require all that planning… Which reminds me…"

"I'll be there," Ginny finished for her, easily guessing what her friend was about to say.

Izzy chuckled. "Alright. At ten – it's a late breakfast since Dad will be on full-moon duty tonight with Remus. Anyway, where's everyone else?"

"Assuming that by 'everyone' else you mean Harry, Ron and Hermione, they've been upstairs since Hermione arrived, having some trio-time," Ginny let her know.

"Trio-time?"

"You know, plotting, packing whatever there's left to pack, brainstorming… trying to save the world," the redhead replied, forcing a casual smile onto her face to hide the fear that 'saving the world part' caused her. "Their thing, you know?"

"Their thing," Izzy repeated. "You know, you're starting to sound like my mum. Trying to seem all strong and sure when in fact you're all but… You don't have to do that all the time – it has to be exhausting."

Ginny shook her head, determined. "I have to. At least until Harry leaves… I just don't want to be yet another thing he has to add to his list of people to worry about. I can have my low moment after he's gone."

Izzy sighed. "You do know he's not completely oblivious, right? He knows you. He can probably tell when you're scared even when you try to sound all brave."

Her friend mumbled something under her breath about hoping that wasn't the case, which was enough for Izzy to guess she didn't want to talk about that matter anymore.

Finding another subject to talk about wasn't easy – Harry's quest seemed to be the only in the mind of anyone who knew of it lately… She was saved from having to think further when a tapping sound filled her ears, making both girls turn to the source of it at the window – a rather regal-looking owl carrying a note.

"Hum, never seen this one before," Ginny observed as she stood up, making her way to the window as Izzy remained sat.

She watched as her friend opened the window and reached for the little envelope the owl carried, feeding it an owl treat from one of the cupboards afterwards.

"Who's it for?" Izzy asked.

"Fleur, apparently."

**Step**** 4 – Know a bit of French.**

Seconds after Ginny had called her name, warning her future sister-in-law of the owl's arrival, Fleur gracefully stepped into the kitchen, followed by her equally stunning mother. The two of them thanked the redhead after fetching the letter and retreated to the living room, where they started dialoguing in quick French, just loud enough for them to hear it clearly.

Annoyed, Ginny retreated back to the kitchen table and groaned. "Merlin, I just hate it when they do that," she whispered to Ginny.

"When they do what?"

"_That_. You know, speaking in French between themselves. Not bothering to keep it down because they _know_ we can't understand what they say. It just makes me nervous. Yesterday, they made me try on my bridesmaid dress and then stood by – Fleur, her mum and her sister – just talking amongst themselves while I stared blankly, wondering what the hell it was about. Bloody annoying."

Izzy chuckled. "Well, then you'll be happy to know they're just complimenting cousin Hélène's new owl. Very elegant, they say."

Ginny looked at her, surprised. "Wait… you… you grew up in Montreal. They speak French there! _You _speak French."

"Oh, no, I don't. Don't ever ask me to speak French because I'm awful at it – I can understand it well, though."

Her friend frowned. "How can you understand it and not speak it?"

"I can say a few things but it all just sounds… awkward. We didn't go out much, you know? Harry and I. Mostly, the people we got along with were Lulu and Mum and they always used English with us. The most French we caught was by watching cartoons on the Muggle telly and when someone took us out."

Ginny still looked a bit unconvinced but she just let it go. "So, what are they saying now?"

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "Your mum would kill you if she even got a wind you were trying to eavesdrop."

"Hey! It's their own fault for taunting me with their long conversation in French. Not that I have anything against the language, mind you. It just annoys me that I don't get it."

"You know, they're probably not doing it on purpose." The redhead raised her eyebrows at her like she was asking her what the point was, which just led Izzy to sigh and go along with it. "Give me a minute to hear it." She focused on the voices behind the door, then, and just listened.

"_Mais qu'attends tu, chérie? Ouvre la lettre__,_" Apolinne Delacour was telling her daughter.

"_Attendez une minute, Maman,_" Fleur replied before speaking again a few seconds later. "_Oh non! __C'est cousine Hélène. Elle est malade avec la Dragoncelle et ne peux pas venir au mariage!" _

"_Ah, __mais c'est affreux_!" her mother declared in a dramatically melodic tone.

"Well?" Ginny asked, awaiting a translation.

Izzy shrugged. "Nothing juicy. The letter that arrived said her cousin was ill with Dragon Pox and she won't be able to make it to the wedding."

"Which cousin?"

"Hélène, I think."

Ginny gulped. "Oh, that's bad."

Izzy frowned. "Why? I didn't know you were acquainted with anyone from Fleur's side…"

"I'm not, not really – but that cousin Hélène… she came by a couple of times – lives in Manchester, I think. Anyway, she's one of her bridesmaids."

Izzy shrugged. "And? Fleur's a bridesmaid short – so what?"

"So what? Clearly you haven't lived with Fleur for the past month to ask that. This wedding's driving her mental. Really mental. Honestly, I had heard about brides becoming monsters with wedding preparations but never bought it… Watching Fleur, though… Merlin, it makes me want to elope when my turn comes."

"It can't be that bad," Izzy said, sceptical.

"Oh, can't it? Mum cornered her and Bill the other day: she was nearly convinced I had a niece or a nephew on the way because Fleur was so moody," Ginny told her.

"No…"

"No to the pregnancy part – Fleur most certainly assured her of that – but yes to Mum cornering them. Bill was mortified. So, trust me, we're seconds away from hearing Fleur lose it. _Really _– she has everything ready for _five_ bridesmaids. _Five – _not one more, not one less. It's supposed to be me, her sister, that cousin of hers and two friends of hers who live in Britain as well. And do you know why she only picked people who live in Britain – well, aside from her sister who's practically a miniature Fleur and knows all she has to teach anyway? So they could all show up for the rehearsals."

"The what?" Izzy asked, a little too loud. "_Rehealsals?_ Is this a wedding or a play?"

"A mix of both, apparently. She made us follow her down the aisle over and over again until we 'had it right' – honestly, I have no idea what 'right' means to her because at the end of it I think I was _limping_. It was torture. Half the time I just wanted to throw myself under the Hogwarts Express! Oh, and by the way, this had better not reach Harry's or any of my brothers' ears. Anyone's ears, for that matter. It's too embarrassing."

"She's gone mad," Izzy mumbled under her breath.

Ginny huffed. "That's what I've been saying for months. Anyway – the point is, practically all her friends and her family are coming here on the day of the wedding. No time to coach any of them. So, yeah, she's going to lose it."

**Step**** 5 – Recognize the backup plan (then try to make a run for it… and fail terribly thanks to a certain redheaded twin).**

And, as Ginny had predicted, lose it Fleur did. Sort of.

The hyperventilating started Seconds after Ginny finished her sentence, followed by moderate hysterics (which escalated to a less moderate sort) and even some profanity in French. It was bizarre.

It went on for several minutes and, at some point, Izzy was pretty sure she heard sobbing. Merlin, maybe Fleur _was _knocked up. She most certainly sounded that way… Then again, it could also be the nerves and the pressure. She supposed planning a wedding, especially away from her home in France, must be stressing.

Madame Delacour was incredibly well-tempered, though, both Izzy and Ginny concluded halfway through Fleur's freak-out session – she simply told her daughter to breathe and relax in a very soothing and motherly way – the woman didn't even scold her daughter for the profanity. And, after some more soothing, she did manage to calm Fleur down.

Eventually, the two women resumed talking and Izzy resumed translating.

"… she's saying something about Fleur needing to skip the stress and jump straight into trying to find a solution," Izzy murmured to Ginny. "Maybe they'll just go with four…"

"No," Ginny said.

"No? Why not?"

"There are five groomsmen for Bill – you know, my brothers. Therefore, five groomsmen, five bridesmaids. Fleur wants the whole thing 'parfaitement symétrique'. See? That much I can say – you know why? Because she just raves about it _over and over again_."

"Merlin…" she mumbled, going back to the listening part.

Fleur and Madame Delacour seemed to be going through their chances and she overheard them brainstorming for a bit, absently translating the dialogue to Ginny as she did.

Nothing major happened at first, no more freak-outs by Fleur or anything – at some point, she was quite certain Ginny had definitely exaggerated in her prediction of trouble likely because she was just so… saturated of the whole wedding. That was, until she heard _the _plan.

"_Et la fille à la cuisine? __Laquelle qui parle avec Ginnee_."

"_Izzee?_"

"_Oui. Elle est une amie de la famille, n'est pas?_"

_zzy_ paused. Oh-oh. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

"What is it?" Ginny asked. "Come on. I can tell by your face whatever they said is juicy."

Izzy gulped. "They're talking about me – I think… I think they want." She didn't have to finish saying it – Ginny clearly got it. They wanted to make Izzy a bridesmaid too.

"Run," the red-head said, dramatically. "Run for your life. I'll cover for you."

And so she did.

Izzy quickly thanked her friend at the same time as she got up and all but sped to the fireplace. "Where's the…" she started, looking for the floo powder, as the pot was not at its usual spot on the mantel.

"On the counter," Ginny quickly told her.

Izzy turned to it and immediately spotted the pot, grabbing a handful of powder. She took a step closer to the fireplace and was just about to say the words and drop the powder when, all of a sudden, someone materialized right opposite her, having just flooed in.

"What the…" she said under her breath, startled. "George!" she yelled, furious as she recognized the intruder. "Get off!"

He just petulantly raised an eyebrow at her. "And a good morning to you too, Isab…"

"I'm serious, here. Out of the way! Out!" she said, trying to push him off, desperately wanting to run. Damn, he was strong!

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, looking around for any signs of some sort of Death Eater attack. What other reason could there be for her running like that?

"George, just get out of her way and ask the questions later!" Ginny demanded.

Although he looked incredibly confused, George ended up complying. The thing was, he was too late.

"Ah, Izzee," Fleur said happily just as she stepped into the room, completely oblivious to the commotion. "I am zo glad you are here! I need a leetle favour…"

And, without being given opportunity to protest, Izzy was dragged away from the kitchen, only having the chance to turn around for a moment.

A moment that she used to shoot George a murderous glare.

**Step**** 6 & 7 ****– Have a chat through a door **_**and**_** feature the most ridiculous Muggle wrestling match ever seen.**

She had tried to excuse herself. Really tried. She'd said she had errands to run, that the dress wasn't fit for her… she'd even pondered faking a fainting spell at some point. Nothing worked so far. She hadn't accepted being a bridesmaid but hadn't refused either.

Izzy glared at the dress resting on the bed opposite her like it was its fault she was in that situation. It was golden – and sparkly. Pretty, yes, but so far away from the sort of dress she'd ever imagine herself in…

It didn't suit her at all, did it? She asked herself, tentatively touching the smooth material. It would make her look ridiculous. Gold? She'd look just like one of those award statuettes they gave out in the yearly WWN gala to the best radio hosts. Ridiculous, of course.

It probably wasn't even her size, she told herself, though that could be easily fixed by magical means. Groaning, she began to get ready to give it a try, just for the sake of proving to Fleur she had no business being a bridesmaid.

It was around the time when she was already fetching the dress to try it on that a loud knock sounded on the door. She turned to it in alarm, expecting the door to burst open at any moment, exposing her not-so-dressed form. "Don't open it!" she yelled. "I'm getting dressed!"

"_You think I don't know better than to push this door open just like that?_" she heard George's voice coming from the outside. "_This is Ginny's room – she's always made sure all of us were aware of the serious consequences attached to bursting into her room uninvited. They're practically burned into our brains!_"

She couldn't help laughing at that. "Seems fair enough, bearing in mind she lives in a house full of guys. Or that used to be full of guys, at least," Izzy replied. "What do you want, anyway? I've got say – you're not very high on my list of favourite people at the moment."

She heard him sighing. "_You know, any decent plotter should have at the very least a couple of escape plans ready just in case one of them ends up ruined…"_

"Oh, ruined by you, you mean?" she casually replied, reaching for the dress in order to put it on.

"_Now, how could I possibly know that in the exact moment I got here through the floo you'd be trying to use it to make a run for it? I may be brilliant, as you're likely aware, but I'm not clairvoyant._"

She huffed. "You could have apparated, you know? Weren't you and Fred all happy about flaunting your new apparition licenses a couple of years ago by appearing out of thin air all over the place? I don't see why you wouldn't still be doing that now."

"_Ah, the novelty's worn off already_," he said, dismissively. "_Plus, there are those really stupid wards Moody placed all over the house for the wedding. They make one feel like you're being put through a bloody assembly line during the apparition process – it's the identity-verification process, he says. Not pleasant at all, let me tell you – Charlie's known for his steel stomach and even he couldn't help spilling his lunch out when he tried apparating here the other day. Fred and I took pictures if you want proof._"

"I'll pass," she replied, dryly, unzipping the golden dress before rather clumsily trying to put it on – was she supposed to step into it or slip it over her head? She didn't want to ruin it or anything. That thing seemed like it had cost a small fortune. Huffing again in frustration, she wished she'd just remained home and stayed out of Fleur's sight. No use crying over spilled milk, they said. "Fine, so I get why you used the floo connection, then. But what the hell are you doing here before noon in the first place? Don't you have, I don't know, a shop to run? A fortune to fatten?"

"_Why, yes I do__. And I'd much rather be doing that at the moment, now that you mention it, Isabelle,"_ he pointed out.

"Then why aren't you?"

"_For the exact same reason you're locked in that room at the moment –__ a fitting. Mum made some last-minute changes to mine and Fred's robes for the wedding and wants to make sure they still fit fine, though, honestly, I doubt that's an issue since I'm pretty sure all Mum did was removing nearly every pocket on them – she's afraid of what we might carry in them._" He made a loud sighing sound. "_Such little trust she has in us…_"

"Well, she raised you – she'd know how much trust you deserve, wouldn't she?" Izzy mumbled, all but contorting herself, struggling to pull likely the most annoying zipper slider she'd ever dealt with on the back the dress, which had apparently gotten stick halfway up. "If you're here to try on your dress-robes, where's Fred? Shouldn't he be here too?"

"_Not really. After the v__ery, very traumatic robe-fittings Mum has put us through for the past few months, we've decided to just take turns at it. We look the same, wear the same… and I mean that part literally – honestly, the only pieces of clothing in our flat that I'm completely sure are mine are those sweaters Mum knits every Christmas with our initials on them. Though Fred and I tend to switch them around every once in the while just for kicks… Anyway, we figured one of us could fall on the sword for both in what came to these fittings. Fred's turn was last week, today is mine. Bet it makes you wish you had a twin, doesn't it?_"

Izzy groaned at the stubborn slider of the dress's zipper. "Very much so at the moment." Exasperated, she eyed the door – if only it was someone else, preferably not a _male_ someone, outside, she could ask them for help. She'd break her own neck or even separate a shoulder while trying to pull up the bloody zipper before she'd even consider putting herself through the utter humiliation of going out and letting _George_ see her walking around with the stupid zipper undone. Not only because of the bloke part but also because… hell, because it embarrassed the living daylights out of her! Plus, being George, odds were pretty high that he would never, ever let her live that moment down.

For a second, she did consider asking him to go fetch his mother or sister to help her but she figured he could easily get teasing material out of that too. Because it was _George _and he could take teasing material just out of _anything_.

It was right about the moment when she thought that last part that Izzy ended up accidentally tripping over her own feet while squirming to pull the zipper from another angle and falling flat on Ginny's bed, zipper still stuck where it had been for the past five minutes. She was going to _kill _Fleur, Izzy thought darkly.

"_Everything okay in there?"_ she heard George asking from the outside. "_It sounds like you're wrestling with a Goblin._"

"Yeah, I'm wrestling with a stupid Goblin! Just go away, George! I'm too busy to listen to you!" Izzy yelled back, standing back up and approaching the full-length mirror on the back of Ginny's door – it felt rather disturbing, knowing he was standing just on the other side of the door while she stood there, half-bare back turned to the mirror as she twisted her neck to look at the back of the dress, trying to figure out how to free the stupid zipper.

When he laughed, she nearly jumped – she could almost hear him like the door wasn't there. _"And miss the great pleasure of talking to you? I don't think so, Isabelle."_

For likely the tenth time since she'd entered that room, she huffed. Now he was teasing her and the blasted zipper was still stuck… she considered just ripping the stupid dress off. That was bound to solve the zipper situation. But she wasn't that selfish that she would ruin it for Fleur, who was getting married in two days… Groaning, she felt even more frustrated. "This is all your fault!" she said, out loud.

"_Are you talking to me?"_

"Who else could it be? It's your fault – me being here in this dress. I don't care whether you knew I was about to use the floo or not," she barked back, struggling with the zipper again – it would come up. For better or for worse, that thing _had _to come up!

"_You could have just said 'no' if you didn't want to become a bridesmaid, you know?"_

"That would be rude," she replied through her teeth, her attention on the back of the dress.

He snorted. _"Oh, and running wouldn't?" _

He did have a point there, she thought, annoyed. "It would be more subtle – and for your information, I haven't said 'yes' either," she pointed out. "Fleur's just made me try the dress on – I'm hoping I'll look like a bloody Christmas ornament in it and she'll change her mind."

"_Somehow, I doubt that will be the case,"_ he said, clearly laughing.

She stopped fumbling with the zipper when she heard him say that, a strange sensation filing her. Like fluttering… in her stomach. She shook her head at that and returned to the job at hand – getting the dress to close. This time, though, maybe because she touched it more softly, her mind still half lost in his words, maybe because the universe decided it was the time to stop messing with her, nearly as soon as she touched the slider, it moved. "Ah, got you, you little bastard!"

"_Alright, is that intended to me too?_" George asked her, a bit annoyed.

"What?" she absently asked. "No! Not you this time. Though, if the hat fits…"

"_No, I don't so. A bit small_," he joked. "People say I have a big head."

"Good for you, then," Izzy responded, barely paying him attention as she looked herself in the mirror. Alright, she thought, so it wasn't _that_ bad. A bit too fancy for her, yes, but at least she didn't look like a clown.

Yes, not that bad at all…

**Step 8 – Finally realize that you have a crush on the aforementioned redheaded twin.**

"_So, are you coming out anytime soon?"_

That time, Izzy raised an eyebrow. Did he just sound impatient to see her? "Why do you ask?" She paused, suspicious. "Damn it, George! What do you have planned?"

"_Planned? Why do I have to have something planned?"_ he inquired in return, genuinely surprised.

"Why else would you be out there, all that time waiting for me to come out? Merlin, it's some product of yours, isn't it? If it's that powder thing that makes people multicoloured, I am going to…"

"_Hold on there! Hold on!"_ he said back. _"There's no plotting here. I'm just curious – you've been raving on and on about looking like some Christmas ornament. I'm just waiting to see it with my own eyes."_

"Just waiting to see," she repeated, still sceptical

"_That's right_."

"And why should I believe you?"

He sighed. "_I solemnly swear I am up to only good. How does that sound?_"

She wrinkled her nose. "Weird. But I guess that will have to be good enough." Sighing, Izzy soothed the front of the dress – it was a bit too long for her – surely it was going to drag weirdly on the floor but there was nothing she could do about it except maybe hoping not to trip over it.

She took another breath and reached for the doorknob, opening the door and finally stepping out.

George stood right outside, a couple of steps away from the door. There was no sort of suspicious product in his hands, as she'd half-expected to be the case, despite his promise.

He didn't say a word and simply looked at her for a long moment. Just looked – no smile, no cunning look, no teasing glance… He just… observed, expressionlessly, which was completely unlike him.

At some point, it made her nervous. What if she looked really bad and hadn't noticed it in the room? What if there was some sort of hope in the fabric? That look couldn't be good at all… "You know what? Just go ahead and say it," she told him. "You think I look ridiculous in this thing, don't you?" Izzy concluded, already taking a step back into the room.

He took a step further and grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could back away. "No! It's not that! It's just…" he stammered, sounding a bit odd "… you look different. In a good way. Not like a Christmas ornament at all."

She gave him a sceptical look. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed. "Well, maybe a little if you count the whole pine-needle thing…"

Her eyes widened. "What pine-nee…?" She paused, realizing he was joking. "Bloody prat."

"Almost had you going, though," he said, chuckling, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, making him look a bit… rigid. So unlike him. "But you look good. Gold has always looked good with silver."

She frowned. "Silver?" Izzy asked, confusedly looking down her form, searching for any sign of it on her. There was nothing, only the golden dress. "Where do I have silver? Are you yanking my wand again? Because this time I don't really see the punch line."

George looked at her like she was mad. "Are you serious?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Serious about what? What are you talking about? What silver?"

"When was the last time you looked at your face in the mirror?"

"About two minutes ago. Why do you…Oh." She paused as realization hit her as she absently reached with her hand to her face. He wasn't messing with her head – he was talking about her eyes. Had he just… complimented her eyes?

She swallowed hard and hoped inwardly that he hadn't noticed it as the strange sensation of fluttering in her stomach returned. Hunger, maybe? It was nearly lunchtime, after all… Yet, deep down, she knew that wasn't the case at all.

No matter how many excuses she created for that fluttering sensation, she simply couldn't convince herself that it wasn't in fact, the first sign. The famous butterflies.

_Bloody hell,_ she thought.

Butterflies? For George? No! That couldn't be! He was just… George. Ginny's brother; joke-shop co-owner with his twin; proud member of the Weasley clan… Just George, an idiot half the time… and likely the sweetest bloke she'd ever met in the other half of it.

_Merlin_, she thought. She _fancied_ him. When had _that _happened?

**Step 9**** – End up too shocked with the revelation to argue with basically anything.**

"Are you okay?" she heard him asking at some point.

"Hum?" she asked, realizing she'd been staring blankly at nowhere in particularly, wide-eyed for quite some time. "Just… thinking," she said, pretending to be looking at her nails as she averted her eyes from his.

"Right," he mumbled. "So, I was just saying that you can stop hoping that Fleur will change her mind when she sees you on that dress. If anything, she'll never let you refuse now. You're doomed."

"Hum-hum," she mumbled awkwardly.

"And speechless too, I see," he concluded with a laugh. "I can't say I don't sympathize with you not being all that glad about having to dress all fancy for a wedding. Fred and I have made a vow that either our future weddings will consist of elopements or we'll just altogether skip the whole fancy dress-code. Let 'em all come the way they want – the more casual, the better, don't you think?"

"Sure," she uttered through her teeth. Was he actually speaking about his potential future wedding right after her having has such an epiphany? "I… I should go downstairs. They're waiting…" she excused herself, really needing to get him out of her sight.

"Oh, alright. I'm supposed to be getting dressed, anyway," he mumbled, taking a step back. "Oh, one more thing," he added before she could walk away.

"What?"

"Save me a dance at the wedding, will you? Bridesmaids… groomsmen… I can't laugh at tradition without trying it first."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "I… I can't dance to save my life."

"Neither can I – we'll just have to scramble something, then, won't we? See you later, then," he replied, walking away without another word.

She just stood there for… a minute, maybe. Silent, unmoving… Just thinking. She fancied _George_. For a while, probably – it surely hadn't happened from one moment to another. Was that why she hadn't dated anyone for such a long time? Because, deep down, she knew she had a thing for George?

"What's that dress you're wearing?" she heard a familiar voice asking, which made her turn to see herself facing Harry, who stood with Hermione and Ron at the doorway of the latter's room, looking at her quite curiously.

"Hum?"

"The dress," Harry said. "A bit too fancy for a casual lunch, I'd say."

"Oh, I see what's happening," Ron said. "That's one of Fleur's dresses. She got to you too – she made you a bridesmaid."

"A bridesmaid? I didn't know you and Fleur got along that well," Hermione observed.

"We don't," Izzy mumbled.

Ron snorted. "You might want to hide, Hermione. Fleur's been going more and more out of her mind with this wedding and, at the rate this is going, you could be next."

"Next concerning what?"

"Next to become a bridesmaid," Harry told her, turning to Izzy. "Does Ginny's dress look like that one? It's nice."

Izzy gave him a frustrated look – was he honestly trying to picture Ginny in that same dress? "Ask her yourself." And, with that, she stalked away, fuming.

"_Moody, isn't she?_" she heard Ron asking.

She chose to ignore that and simply headed straight to the room she knew to be Bill's, where Fleur had told her to meet them after getting ready.

She knocked and opened the door when Fleur's mother told her to enter in thick French. Molly had joined them, then, and Ginny was wearing a golden dress that matched hers, her expression showing an enormous amount of annoyance.

Fleur turned to her and smiled. "Oh, Maman, regardez!" she told her mother, excitedly. "It eez parfait!"

"It's bit too long…" Izzy mumbled, hoping for a miracle.

"Oh, that's easily fixed," Molly declared, smiling. "You look lovely."

"I… er, thanks," Izzy said, a bit embarrassed.

"You're welcome, dear. Now, I'd better go, see if George is dressed already… I'll be right back," the older woman said, making her way to the stairs.

_Doubt __he is_, Izzy thought to herself, bearing in mind the time George had spent talking to her instead of, well, getting dressed.

Before Izzy could get lost in her thoughts, though, Fleur approached her, big smile on her flawless face. "You weel do it, n'est pas?" she asked, hopeful. "You weel be my brizemaid? You look wonzerful in zat dress. Hélène is ill – everthing eez set for five brizemaids."

"I… hum," she stuttered, watching as Ginny shook her head profusely, narrow-eyes as she mouthed mouthing the words 'save yourself' to her.

"Pleez zay you'll do it!" Fleur replied.

"Er… I guess …" she mumbled.

"Oh, zat is wonderful!" Fleur shouted before Izzy could even finish her sentence. Then, satisfied, the quarter Veela promptly turned to her mother and started blabbing about last-minute plans for the wedding.

**Step 10**** – Wonder how the hell **_**that**_** happened…**

Ginny approached her, looking rather stunned as the two other women in the room raved around, speaking in very quick French. "What the hell, Izzy? I thought you were ready to make a run for it and now you're a bridesmaid? How did that happen?"

"I… I don't know," Izzy mumbled, completely flabbergasted. She had to back a few seconds in her mind. She'd accepted? _Accepted _becoming what Ginny had earlier described as one of Fleur's slaves? What had possessed her to do _that_?

The answer came nearly as quick as the question. _George_ had happened. George and his stupid subtly charming self had… hypnotized her into submission to Fleur.

"What about George?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hum? What?"

"You've just mumbled his name under your breath," her friend let her know. "What about him?"

"Oh," she mumbled, surprised she'd actually said his name without noticing it. "I was thinking it was this fault that this happened," Izzy half-lied under her breath.

"That and your apparent inability to say 'no'," Ginny stated. "But yeah, if he hadn't gotten in your way when you tried to escape, you'd probably not be standing there in a sparkly golden dress, sort of looking like you were just confounded…"

Izzy huffed – Ginny was right, she thought. If George hadn't gotten in the way, she wouldn't have been in that situation… No, that wasn't true, she thought. Either way, she would have been in that situation – fancying George – however, if he hadn't shown up, she'd probably have just remained oblivious to it.

The thing was, though, that now she was aware of her… crush, she wasn't sure just how oblivious she would have wanted to remain.

**A/N2: And I hope everyone enjoyed the story, which an official answer to everyone who's been asking me if Izzy and George are going to happen. No promises on if they're going to last, though (could I really be that mean...? :S). Sorry for the lateness - things stretched out a little this week and then came mine and my sister's birthday yesterday... well, the outtake just made it here a bit late.**

**Translations:**

"Mais qu'attends tu, chérie? Ouvre la lettre." – What are you waiting for, dear ? Open the letter!

"Attendez une minute, Mamman," – Wait a minute, Mum

"Oh non! C'est cousine Hélène. Elle est malade avec la Dragoncelle." – Oh no! It's cousin Hélène. She's ill with Dragon Pox.

"Ah, c'est affreux." – Ah, that's awful

"Et la fille à la cuisine? Laquelle qui parle a Ginnee." – And the girl in the kitchen? The one talking to Ginny.

"Oui. Elle est une amie de la famille, n'est pas?" – Yes. She's a friend of the family, isn't she?

"Rergardez." – Look

"N'est pas?" – Isn't it/Won't you?

(I think I got them all. Let me know if I forgot any...)


	3. Someone Did a Bad, Bad Thing

**Title: **Someone did a Bad, Bad Thing

**Pairings: **George/OC, Remus/Tonks (mentioned only)

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **Companion to the chapter 51 of _Brave New Hope_

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

**Summary:** Coveting one's baby sister's best friend is not good. Fred, however, doesn't seem to agree.

**A/N: Happy Christmas, everyone! As promised, here is my Third Outtake to the Brave New... Series, this time featuring Fred and George. It's not a very big one but I hope you'll like it anyway.**

He was an idiot. A big, _big_ idiot, George Weasley thought as he silently apparated into Diagon Alley alongside with his twin brother.

Truth to be told, knowing he was an idiot really shouldn't have been something new to him. That was, after all, one of the names he was called the most, second only to his own legal name.

But that day he'd gone and really proven it… he was the emperor of all idiots, the monarch of Idiot-land. He just had to go and do something so monumentally stupid like kissing Isabelle Black.

He blamed it on the farewell. One moment he'd been there, hearing her confessing her fears and frustrations, the other he'd felt the most unstoppable urge to kiss her. The fact that she'd been just about to walk into a train headed to the newly danger-filled Hogwarts certainly hadn't helped urging him to stop. On the back of his mind he had wondered if that would be his last chance. And so it had happened.

Just the thought of it made him want to groan. Not that it hadn't been a particularly _enjoyable_ experience, he quickly added in his mind as he silently followed a suspiciously silent Fred into their shop, which, later he'd notice, just had little more than half a dozen costumers in it, most of them just browsing through. He'd be full of crap if he didn't admit, even to himself, that he'd been wondering for a long time – much longer than he liked to admit – how kissing Izzy would feel like. And, Merlin, hadn't the action itself felt so much better than he'd ever imagined.

But it couldn't happen. It just couldn't, he insisted for a myriad of reasons ranging from her being his baby sister's best friend (not to mention even _younger_ than her) to them being friends. _Great _friends, he added, as lately he'd seen himself connecting with her through their little talks in a way he'd only ever connected with Fred who, to be honest, was practically a part of himself. To put it simple, Isabelle Black had grown to become the kind of friend one wouldn't want to ever give up or risk for the sake of… a little infatuation. Because it was all it could be, he stubbornly told himself. An infatuation.

Of course, convincing himself of that was so much easier said than done, he quickly concluded as he crossed the shop towards the counter where their perky cashier, Verity, appeared to be gift-wrapping something for a client. Verity whom, several months before, he'd gone on two dates with before concluding there was something missing from her. Something that, although he couldn't tell what it was, he couldn't really see himself dating her without. Something he knew Izzy had. Just thinking of that made him want to curse himself – why the hell couldn't he keep his own thoughts under control?

"Alright, Georgie, I think it's time you spill it," he heard Fred announcing very much out of the blue just as George saw himself alone with his brother in the shop's stock room – how he'd gotten in it without noticing, though, was beyond him.

"Spill what?" George replied dismissively.

"Everything. You look like something's just eaten your puppy, which shouldn't be the case since I went through great lengths of trouble to get you alone with your girl," he pointed out.

"I don't know what you're talking about – I don't have any 'girl'," George was quick to point out as he hung his cloak behind the door.

Fred frowned, following his twin as he tried to escape his inquiry by making his way back to behind the counter, quickly dismissing Verity so she could take her lunch break. "Okay, so you want to play it that way?" Fred asked. "How should I put it, then? 'The girl you refuse to admit you want to be _your girl_'? 'The girl you've been making googly eyes at'? No, none of that – this one's the winner: 'The girl you really want to kissy kiss'!" He made kiss sounds just for the sake of illustrating his point.

George glared "It's not beyond me to curse you, you know? It really, really wouldn't make me feel bad if I did."

Fred rolled his eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Look, is this all about you being worried about her and Ginny?" he asked. "Because they're going to be fine. They're probably among the toughest kids that school has ever seen. Plus, they have the whole DA on their side – Snape and the Carrows don't stand a chance."

His brother's pacifying words eased his annoyance at him for a pest, even if he was being so blatantly overly positive. "Knowing they're tough isn't really an issue, Fred," he found himself saying even though he still had his fears concerning their well-being. It was stupid, really, because he knew that if he was the one at Hogwarts, he wouldn't really give a crap about safety as opposed to wreaking havoc.

"We'll that's a relief to hear because, as I was saying, I went through _a lot_ of trouble to get you alone with Izzy Black. Ginny actually punched me, you know?" he stated, pointing at his arm. "She wasn't all that happy when I handed her over to Mum on a platter so she could fuss. I think I might get a bruise."

"Aw, poor you," George mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Milk that one well and you may have Angie playing nurse for you tonight."

Fred grinned. "Oh, you bet I'll give that a try. She does make a really interesting nurse," he mumbled, before clearing his throat and going back to the point. "But, anyway, getting punched for you more than entitles me to know what went on when I left you two lovebirds alone. You know I keep no secrets from you about Angelina and I – least you could do was repaying me in the same fashion."

"Alright, first of all, sometimes I _do _wish you'd keep secrets from me about what happens between you and Angelina behind closed doors, especially when said doors lead to a bedroom or really anywhere with a flat surface in it. Second of all, Isabelle and I are _not_ 'lovebirds'."

His twin made a dismissive gesture. "Eggs… omelette. It's all just a matter of time and semantics. So, go ahead, Georgie, spill it."

"There is nothing…" He was interrupted by a female client approaching the counter, ready to pay for a few things she'd just picked out from the Wonder Witch section.

It was almost a relief when the girl turned out to be a talkative one, keeping Fred busy talking while he took care of packing the stuff she was buying. Maybe that would get Fred to let go of the matter, although, knowing him well, George didn't keep his hopes up.

"Thank you, come again. New products are coming out next week," Fred told the girl as she walked away, promptly turning back to his twin just as they were left alone again. "So, you were saying…"

"Can't you let this go just this once?" George asked.

"Phew. You know me better than that – it's for your own good, not just my entertainment, trust me. Now, come on, you're not a killjoy – why do you have to be one about this matter in specific? Because, really, that's not helping you convincing me you don't feel anything for Izzy Black, so, go on. What happened at the station?"

"Nothing happened," George lied.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Come on, George. You know you can't lie to me. We can't lie to each other – we may be convincing to everyone else but among ourselves… forget it. Something happened that made you act all weird. Don't think I didn't see your face when you came out of your little hiding place, not to mention Izzy's. She looked positively dumbfounded. What did you tell her? You're just going to lose your marbles if you keep it in."

"I didn't…" George started before hesitating. So, Fred was sort of right – there was no use lying to him because he'd know. They always knew. And he figured that, well, Fred might be a pest when he was proven right but he knew he could trust him to keep a secret – well, at least what mattered the most in a secret. It wasn't like keeping what had happened to himself was helping him in any way. "It wasn't about what I _said_ – it was about what I did."

His brother's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Hello… I'm starting to like this. Did you do what I think you…?"

"Yeah, I kissed her, now _shut up_. It was a really stupid thing to do," George said as he started counting money just for the sake of looking busy.

"Stupid thing? Mate, you like her, she was going away for a long time, so you kissed her. What's stupid about it?"

George started to speak but ended up pausing… truth to be told, he was finding it hard to justify said stupidity at the moment although he knew he'd had a pile of reasons for it just minutes before. His own mind was betraying him. "I… she didn't _ask _for it," he said lamely.

"So? What were you expecting? A bloody written invitation?"

"No, it's just…" He paused. "I actually told her before I… you know, kissed her, that I was going to do something stupid."

Fred stared at him oddly for a few seconds. "Well, that _was_ stupid. What did she say, then? Before or afterwards…"

"Hard to say… Sirius kind of interrupted us," he mumbled.

His brother stared some more. "And you're still breathing how?"

"He didn't actually _see _us. He just… called out for her and scared the living hell out of both of us. Anyway, afterwards we didn't _really _talk. Not much, anyway, since it was all so unbelievably awkward… I messed up, Fred. I really messed it up by kissing her."

"Because it was awkward? Oh, for Merlin's sakes, get over it! I might think this was the first girl you'd ever kissed if I didn't know how far you'd gone with Alicia Spinnet in our sixth year – talk about channelling energy elsewhere when Quidditch wasn't an option."

"Oh, shut it, Fred. Like you and Angie weren't going at it all over the place too," George mumbled.

Fred grinned. "Oh, yes. That Triwizard Tournament gave us some year…" He cleared his throat. "But, anyway, I don't get why you're so bothered about having kissed Izzy Black. Was it really such a horrifying experience?"

"Of course it wasn't horrif… look, that's not the point! The point is that she's my friend. That's all she is. Period."

"Hum, hum, get back to me when you're done convincing yourself."

"Damn it, Fred! Stop being patronizing."

"I'm not being patronizing – I know you. I see how you look at this girl. You like her and _not_ as just a friend. She's not mad, she's not evil, she's not related to us in any way that would make you liking her in a romantic way disgusting – I don't see why you're torturing yourself."

"I am _not_ torturing myself," he whispered furiously, trying not to alert any of the few costumers in the shop to the discussion taking place.

"Oh, really? Then name a legitimate reason as to why you shouldn't make a move on Izzy Black," Fred dared him.

"One? Oh, I'll give you more than that: first, she's Ginny's best friend, so it would be weird; second, her dad is one of my idols, by whom I'd very much not like to be murdered."

"Phew, Sirius wouldn't kill you. He respects a fellow prankster far too much to do that. At the worst, he might cripple you."

"Oh, great, what the hell was I worrying about? Maybe I'll just come out of this crippled!" George said sarcastically. "I guess since this is such a non-reason, I should give you some more. Here it goes: she's _four_ years younger than us."

"What? No, she's not," Fred said, frowning. "Wasn't she born in the same year as Ginny in, like, November?"

"December," George corrected.

"Whatever. That makes her just… what? Three and a half years younger than us?"

"Three years and nine months. Round it up and you'll have four years," he concluded.

"Big mistake, Georgie. _Big _mistake. You don't round up a girl's age. They'll kill you if you do that," Fred informed him.

"I'm not rounding it up, I'm rounding it down by rounding up the age ga… oh, forget it. She's _fifteen_, which makes her even younger than Ginny – that's enough for an argument."

"That's stupid. She'll be sixteen in like three months! Plus, she got into Hogwarts one year earlier than most people – that has to give her some extra months at the very least."

"It doesn't work that way! Just shut up!"

"_You _shut up," Fred countered.

Before any of them could add anything, they heard the sound of a throat being cleared nearby. When they turned to see who it was, they found Tonks standing on the other side of the counter.

"Why, what seems to be the situation, gentlemen? Should I start thinking of intervening?" she asked, shooting them a mock-authoritarian look. Her hair was its usual bubble-gum pink, contrasting heavily with her dark blue robes, worn loose that day likely to hide any sign of her pregnancy from unwanted eyes, which was bound to become obvious soon to anyone acquainted with her usually skinny-as-a-stick-figure frame.

"Ah, Tonks, Tonks, Tonks. Just the person I needed to prove my point," Fred said, slowly turning to face his brother with a cocky grin on his face.

"Fred do not…"

"Mate, I'm just going to ask her a question," Fred told him in all seriousness, giving him a look that clearly urged him to trust him. "Not even an obvious one…"

George narrowed his eyes warningly but didn't say a word. He supposed he'd have to trust Fred not to spill his secrets all over the place… he could always smother him in his sleep afterwards if he didn't. "Fine."

"Well, doesn't this sound interesting?" Tonks observed with a smirk. "And what question would that be?"

"Would you say there was anything wrong with a bloke our age falling for a girl a handful of years younger?" Fred asked.

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "You do know I'm currently married to a bloke more than a decade older than me, so I may be biased, right?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking _you_," Fred stated. "We need someone with experience on the matter."

"Alright… so, this age gap… how much of a handful is this 'handful of years'?"

Fred didn't respond. Instead, he turned to George, urging him to do it himself since it was _his _issue.

George cleared his throat. "More than two… less than five," he offered.

"_Definitely _less than five," Fred added, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up!"

Tonks snorted at their antics for a moment before clearing her throat. "And are there… _real_ feelings involved in this equation?"

George was deadly silent for a moment and, when he spoke, how rather wished he'd stayed silent a whole lot longer. "Er… it's comp… I don't think it…"

"Yes, there are definitely real feelings involved," Fred answered in his brother's stead.

"_Fred I am going to kill…"_

"Wow, shameless death threats in front of an auror," Tonks observed in disgust, shaking her head at the two. "Nice, guys. _Real_ nice. Couldn't think of a better way to remind me of the fact that the career I've spent years training for has been turned into a joke ever since those Snatchers came into play. So, really, don't mind me. It's not like I have the authority to arrest you anymore unless you _actually_ kill each other. Us aurors are nothing more than pencil-pusher these days, after all."

Fred and George stopped with the bickering, instead looking at her rather apologetically. "Merlin, Tonks, you already sound just like a mum," Fred pointed out.

George nodded, "The guilt trip trick is spot on."

She couldn't help smiling a little. "You think?" she asked in a rather pleased tone.

"Definitely. Mum would approve," Fred assured her without a doubt. "But, well, threats and guilt trips aside, what's your verdict on this whole matter?"

"Oh, right. Well, I'm not going to tell any of you what to do. I won't. But if it were me in George's shoes, I'd go for it," she declared, nodding at George, who gave her a look of utter disbelief.

"We never told you this was about _me_," George said.

"Yeah, well, you didn't make a good job out of hiding it either. Besides, Fred has a girlfriend he's bonkers about. If he wanted to go ahead and date a younger girl, he sure wouldn't be telling me," Tonks pointed out.

"We could be asking for a friend."

She actually laughed at that one. "Yeah, right. Since when do blokes ask someone else for advice meant to other friends?"

"Alright, as a fellow bloke, I have to say that is awfully unfair, Tonks," Fred stated with a frown. "We can be…" He snapped his fingers as he searched for the word in his mind.

"Sensitive?" George asked.

"Exactly. We can be sensitive on occasion," the other twin finished.

"Hum, hum," she mumbled dismissively. "Well, sensitive or not, you've asked for my opinion, I gave it to you. There isn't a time when age becomes more of a number than it does during a war. People don't have a chance other than growing way beyond their years in a blink of an eye and next thing you know, it may all be gone."

"It's… it's more complicated than just an age gap," George mumbled stubbornly.

Tonks gave him a look. "More complicated than falling for a werewolf with inferiority complexes who insisted on barking at me that he was too old, too poor, too dangerous and too whatever-the-hell-he-came-up-with every time I as much as gave him a look?" she asked sceptically. "Listen, I'm not going to say that none of your… other reasons are valid mostly because I don't even know them. I'm going to tell you this, though: it's one hell of a feeling when you get through 'complicated' and it all pays off in the end. Plus, keep one very important thing in mind: feelings always have the upper hand when you're trying to fight them. Always."

George couldn't bring himself respond, instead spending his energy into thinking. He couldn't say her words had caused him to figure the whole issue out – far from it, really. But they did give him a little hope, though, that at some point he'd be able to figure it out and maybe, just maybe, he'd end up enjoying that feeling that, according to Tonks, came with the ultimate pay off.

Of course, for that to happen he had to stop feeling like sort of a creep over having feelings for his baby sister's best friend. Which he still wasn't sure if was the best thing to do. After all, he didn't even have any idea as to whether or not those feelings were reciprocated. Part of him wished they weren't since it would cut the problem down by its roots…

"Well, Gentleman," Tonks stated. "I'd love to stay and give more advice since I'm apparently on a roll here but I did come by with a purpose. Something along the lines of meeting my dear, overworked husband…"

Fred cleared his throat and gave Tonks a serious look. "Now, just wait a minute before you go. This is a reputed establishment, Tonks. We need to know that when you go upstairs to…" he cleared his throat before making air quotes "…'meet' good old Remus you'll remember the rules we put into place. Wouldn't want you to do anything that'd break the business environment."

Tonks gave them a look. "I thought that was a joke."

"Of course it's a joke – this is a joke shop," Fred pointed out.

"Yeah. And in case you don't know, we do enforce jokes around here," George mumbled as he forced himself to snap out of the whole to-like-or-not-to-like-Izzy dilemma, if not for anything else, to conserve his own sanity.

"Gee, guys, I think you're being a little too hard on us," the metamorphagus argued. "I mean, ten minutes of canoodling for every hour I spend up there with him… I'm not sure if I'll find it in me to make him follow that."

"Ten minutes is the minimum," Fred pointed out. "We really do advise at least fifteen. Of course, any unused canoodling time you accumulate can also be traded for an early leave, possibly an extended lunch," Fred added. "Breaking these rules once will lead to a warning."

"Three warnings lead to a penalty and your little husband already has two," George stated. "I don't think Remus wants to tackle that extra week of vacation looming on his penalty-shaped horizon."

The pink-haired woman grinned. "I don't know. If you leave that extra week for next year, I might just make sure he's a third-striker by the end of the day. Merlin knows I could probably use an extra week of him around when the little one comes."

Fred mock-glared at her. "Just for your impertinence, we'll make that _two_ weeks," he informed her. "Though there may or may not be red-tape deliveries to your place during said weeks of vacation – we're not so cruel that we'd fully separate a bloke from his beloved paperwork."

She nodded with a fake serious expression all over her face. "Yes, that faint strike of compassion is the only reason why I don't tell Remus to quit from such a dreadful job. And _I _thought I had it bad during my year as a department slave… I mean, as a _trainee_ at the auror office." She sighed. Stupidly enough, being a slave-like trainee still beat her – and the whole office's – position as permanent desk-jockey for those disgusting Snatchers.

"Business is business," George observed.

"So, do go on," Fred urged her. "Then let us know if we should get the gears running for penalty-enforcement or not."

"Try to sound a little surprised when I do," the pink-haired expecting mother pleaded as she slipped to behind the counter and disappeared into the door behind it.

Fred shook his head, clicking his tongue. "No sense of decorum these days, is there?" he mockingly commented before turning to George. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Please tell me hearing what I've been telling you from Tonks has put some sense into you. I mean, the woman would know – what's a little three-year gap compared to the thirteen years between her and Moony?"

"First of all, it's _four_ years, not three. Second of all, I still have no plans to make anything remotely close to a 'move' on Isabelle, if that's what you're asking. "

Fred rolled his eyes. "You know you're going to cave, eventually. You heard Tonks – feelings always have the upper hand," he stated. "You may be stubborn as a mule but you always knew how to pick your own fights. Mark my words, George. I know you better than anyone in the world."

And, as his brother made an exit to the back room to take care of a few owl orders, it really did annoy George that Fred sounded so sure of himself. If there was one thing his brother was right about was that he knew him better than anyone. They knew each other better than anyone. In the end, that was what so often led them to be right about each other. It was what made them best friends.

Because, truth was, it didn't matter how much Fred bugged him; it didn't matter what sort of advice he got. If he was honest to himself, George would know he might come up with a thousand reasons why he shouldn't fall for Isabelle Black but they'd all have the same fate for the simple fact that his logic tended to betray him around her. Just like it had that morning when he'd kissed her.

Ultimately, he – or at least a part of him he very much wanted to repress along with Fred's predictions – knew the truth. Ultimately he knew he was fighting a losing battle with his feelings. And ultimately he was looking forward to lose.

**A/N2: Feedback is welcome! Review!**


	4. Godric's Hollow

**Title: **Godric's Hollow

**Pairings: **None

**Characters: **The Dursleys

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **Between chapters 57 and 58 of _Brave New Hope_

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

**Summary:** Everything was different in that pretty little village. Much different. Quinn liked it.

**A/N:**I had this one drafted a long time ago but didn't seem able to fit it anywhere. Finally, the time came. Sorry about the lateness but I had essays and exams non-stop for the past five weeks - next chapter of Brave New Hope should be up sometime nest week :D Enjoy this little interlude in the meanwhile

**Godric's Hollow, 30 January 1998**

Everything was different in that pretty little village. Much different. Quinn liked it.

The houses looked like they should have dolls in them instead of real people and the streets were made of actual stone. At a distance there were trees instead of more houses like there used to be at home. And, more important, it snowed. It snowed a lot. Enough for her to make snowmen in the backyard – a whole family of them.

Dedalus and Hestia said they should have left for another town weeks before, but her father had refused. For once, Quinn agreed with him, although he never said it to Dedalus and Hestia in a way that would make him sound nice, even though they were always good to him.

He was never nice these days – not to her, not to her mum, not even to Dudley. When she asked why, Dudley told her it was because there wasn't anyone around to fool anymore – she didn't understand what that meant but she knew he always looked upset when he said it. Not as upset as he'd been, though, when they'd overheard a fight between Mum and Dad a few days before and their father had called Quinn her mother's 'little bastard'. When she'd asked Dudley what that was, he'd told her it meant she was the lucky one but that she shouldn't go around saying it because it was rude. It didn't make much sense to Quinn that saying someone was lucky could also be rude but the truth was that since that day Dudley hadn't said a single word to their parents.

She didn't mind that last part, really, because as long as he was avoiding Mum and Dad, he was spending more time with her building snowman and snow forts. Theirs were the bestest, Quinn knew. Not because they were prettier but because they'd last so, _so_ long, even when the sun was shining. Hestia told her it was because of her magic – it would make the snow stronger when she wished it wouldn't melt. She and Dedalus told her and Dudley a lot of things about Magic: about the school in the fairy-tale castle, about the wands and the broomsticks, about the funny sport they played on them… it sounded fun and it made Quinn wish she was eleven already so she could live it all.

They always laughed and told her not to hurry because they had plenty to fix before her turn came – in the meanwhile, she wasn't supposed to use magic out in the open, especially in front of her father. They never said it was because he hated magic but she knew he did – he was always called magical people 'freaks', which by extension would make her a freak too. She didn't mind being a freak if it would make her fix dying flowers and allow her to build the best snowman ever. But he already didn't like her much, so if he knew she was magic too, he might just try to lock her up in the shed for good. She knew Dudley was around to spring her but she'd rather just avoid it in the first place – it always smelled so musty…

But the shed was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment – she was building another snowman. The third, she added in her mind, to keep the other two – a little one and a bigger one that were herself and Dudley's likeness in her mind – some company.

"I can't reach the face," she told her brother as she stood on her tiptoes by the snowman, trying to reach up with a handful of broken pieces of wood in her hands. "Help me up, Dudley."

"The face? What for? It's already finished – it has eyes, a nose and a mouth," Dudley replied.

Quinn shook her head. "Something's still missing. Please?"

Dudley sighed. "Alright," he agreed as he picked her up, lifting her so she could reach the new snowman's head. He could hardly ever say 'no' to Quinn these days. Not when he knew what he knew – life wasn't going to be easy for her, because his father was a monumental arse and wouldn't give Quinn a shred of compassion even though she wasn't guilty of anything and their mother was too much of a coward to stick up for her daughter. She was just a kid, after all – he remembered being spoiled rotten at her age, yet she didn't even get a tenth of the attention he had back then from his parents. Then again, maybe them ignoring her was all for the best – his parents were toxic, he'd grown to realize, and god knew how close he'd been to becoming the same. She stood a much better chance of becoming a minimally decent person without them messing with her head as they'd messed with his. And she'd always have him, he promised himself, regardless of magic, blood or anything else that turned up. Maybe it wasn't as good as having decent parents but it was better than nothing. "You're getting a little too big for this, you know? Being seven and all," he commented as he watched her placing the broken pieces of wood on the snowman's forehead. "What's that you're doing, Quinnie?"

"A scar," she replied.

"A scar? Why are you giving the snowman a scar?"

"Because Harry has one too," she easily explained. "I saw it. It looked like a lightning-bolt."

Dudley raised his eyebrows. "Wait, Harry? Our cousin Harry? The one that's like you?"

Quinn nodded. "He's the only Harry I know," she pointed out.

"Right… so this snowman is him?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why? We barely know him."

"I thought it might give him good luck," she replied in the most natural tone on Earth. "He seemed nice. I hope he wins against the bad man."

Dudley frowned. "Where did you hear that? That _he_'s going against the 'bad man', I mean?"

The little girl shrugged. "I hear things."

"You hear far too much," he replied with a sigh. "Where does it say making someone's snowman will give them good luck, anyway?"

Quinn shrugged again and just kept on building the scar on the snowman's forehead. "I dunno. But I think if we wish really hard, anything can give good luck." She turned to her brother and smiled. "Don't you?"

He looked a bit sceptical for a few seconds but eventually just shrugged in acceptance. "Why not?" he mumbled. "If it turns out not to be the case, you can do your magic to make it give him good luck, anyway."

The little girl smiled widely. "I can. There," she said, nodding at the scar-bearing snowman. "Now all that's missing is the glasses."

"I'll see what I can do about th…"

"_Dudley_!" they suddenly heard Vernon's voice calling.

He stood at the house's backdoor, eyeing them both sternly, mainly Quinn, who mostly ignored it. She'd gotten used to ignoring him, seeing as he mostly did the same about her as well.

Dudley, on the other hand, glared at his father just as his father glared at him, refraining from saying a word in reply.

"What are you doing wasting time back here when you should be studying for you're A-levels?" Vernon asked. "They don't just accept slackers in King's College."

Dudley pursed his lips together as he put Quinn down. "The A-levels are not for months and I've already told I am not going to King's College."

"If this is about that police rubbish again, I won't take it, you hear me? Enough of that codswallop! Now quit wasting time with the girl and go study!"

"The 'girl' has a name," Dudley replied.

"I know she does. Now get inside," Vernon replied dismissively.

"Say it. Say her name," his son urged him.

"What for? She knows her own name. Don't you, girl?" he asked, glaring at Quinn.

She nodded faintly in response in response, taking a step back. She could take it when her parent's fought – it was so much part of her routine it had become easy to ignore. When Dudley was the one being yelled at, though, she hated it. He wasn't mean like them. He didn't deserve it.

"Stop it!" Dudley said. "Mum's the one who screwed up, not her! Why do you treat her like everything's her fault?"

"It is none of your business…"

She didn't take it, anymore. Now they were fighting about her. It made her hate it even more, to the point that she couldn't stand it. She wanted it to be over or she wanted to go away. And so it happened – Quinn wasn't even focusing on the gate when the lock snapped open but she certainly ran for it and slipped out once she saw the chance. Dudley and their father were so focused on their fight, they didn't even see her leaving.

She knew she shouldn't have done that. Quinn wasn't supposed to lea ve the house alone unless someone was coming to hurt her – Hestia had said so many times and so far she'd obeyed. Not that time – then, she didn't really bother to think that she'd get grounded, maybe shoved into the shed like her mother told her that her father would do if he saw her using magic. She just wanted to leave, far away from the fight.

She wasn't sure how long or how far she walked. It wasn't a big village and she didn't really leave it – just walked in circles along its streets – but still she couldn't really tell which way was the one back home since they didn't come out much. It scared her a little that she didn't know the way back home but not enough to stop her – she didn't want to go back yet, so there would be time to worry about it later… after her father was done yelling at Dudley.

She heard the music coming from inside the church when she passed by it and considered going inside – it was getting cold out there. She hesitated before doing it, though, as her eyes reached the nearby field with all the stones and tiny grey houses. On one of the few times her mother had taken her there since they'd moved, Dudley had told her it was the graveyard, where they put people after they died, like her Aunt Lily and her class's hamster had. It seemed awfully lonely and even sadder that nobody was there – for a moment, she wondered if dead people felt lonely. She wasn't sure what happened to them after dying but being stuck in such a downcast place ought to feel bad, especially if they were alone… or maybe they were happy enough in each other's company…

All of a sudden, though, she blinked and, at the same time a faint cracking sound reached her ears, where there was no one, a dark shape of a person appeared. It must be an actual person, she thought, since it didn't look anything like a shapeless foggy ghost like Casper.

Actually, the fact that it appeared out of thin air on one of the graveyard's secluded corners didn't really shock her at all – it might have if she hadn't seen it happening so many times whenever Hestia and Dedalus came by. They appeared out of nowhere sometimes, just as the dark-cloaked figured just had at the graveyard. Like magic. Like her.

Whoever it was, it didn't see her as it moved slowly along the halls between tombstones, headed to a particular one, where it stopped. It wore black clothes, shaped like the ones Hestia and Dedalus did – big, loose dresses they called 'robes'. Not the sort of thing her parents or any of her neighbours back home would wear. That just served to prove her that her gut was right – that it was like her… the person. It was magic too.

She should have been scared and ran but, more than anything, she was curious – what was someone like her doing there? There were mostly regular people in that town – Muggles, Dedalus and Hestia called them. That fact alone draw her towards it even though she _knew_ it should have driven her away. They said there were bad people who were also magical, like the bad man, but that cloaked figure couldn't be bad, could it? It was visiting someone in the graveyard. That meant it missed that person. So, it had to be good, right? Bad people didn't care, did they?

She wasn't even going to talk to it, Quinn told herself as she walked slowly towards the graveyard – she was just going to watch it from a distance. That wouldn't hurt.

Quinn walked along the graveyard's walls, taking cover behind the largest tombs so the stranger wouldn't see her. It was a man, she noticed at a distance when she settled in a hiding spot a few yards from him. Tall and with black hair that looked somewhat wet – she couldn't see much more than that as his back was turned to her. And he wouldn't move, or show any sign that would definitely confirm he was like her – he just stood in front of the grave, unmoving. Whoever was in there, he must miss it very much.

Curiosity took over once more as she decided to move somewhere with a better view – she needed to see, to know. She wasn't sure why but she did. However, she was only able to take a couple of steps as, after accidentally stepping on a branch, the man's face turned reflexively towards her. Well, he was magical alright, Quinn concluded easily just as soon as she found herself facing his wand. But he didn't attack – he just stared at her like he was looking at a ghost.

Severus Snape had a very firm vision of the world. There was good and there was bad: during his life, he'd worked for both and, at the moment, he felt somewhere in the middle, stuck between what he wanted to do and what he needed to do. There were people and there were monsters and, in some cases, it was hard to tell the difference between them. There were ghosts too: the translucent kind that inhabited Hogwarts and the clearer sort that haunted his mind. For several moments as he stood in that graveyard, he was sure he was standing in front of some sort of projection from one of the latter. The clearest ghost he'd ever seen: Lily. He allowed himself to believe it for several seconds, both rejoicing and grieving for it.

It took him about as long to realize he was wrong. The creature in front of him wasn't child-aged Lily haunting him – Lily was gone, buried several feet beneath him in that graveyard. His alleged master had killed her, although he'd been the one pushing her away long before that had happened. The creature in front of him was an actual child: so hauntingly similar and yet so clearly different from Lily Evans. Her hair was lighter, just a hint of Lily's red marring the blonde of her plaited hair, her eyes bluer, although there was still a hint of green in them, her features softer and much more child-like than he remembered Lily's ever being. She eyed him with a look of confusion and all-so-familiar compassion in her young face. Who was that child? He asked himself. Was he just spotting the similarities because he wanted them there? Because it was Lily's birthday that day?

By the time he composed himself, he finally spoke. "What are you doing here on your own, girl?" he inquired, still eyeing her closely as he lowered his wand. The girl eyed it with curiosity but didn't ask what it was.

She hesitated for a second before answering him as well – she was considering if she should tell him the truth. That she was like him and was curious. But that was the _big _secret. That she was magic. And not just from her father – she'd heard Dedalus telling Dudley that the bad people were hurting people like her: magical people born into non-magical families. Dudley had told her so many times she couldn't tell or show anyone she was magical… she could only do it in the backyard, where the spells wouldn't let anyone but them see it. So, maybe she shouldn't say it. She was already in so much trouble and she really didn't want to get hurt… "Just walking around," she lied.

Even the voice sounded similar, Snape thought, to the one he remembered from when he and Lily were both children. By then, he was fairly sure he was imagining it. All the similarities… It was the grief, surely.

"On your own? Where are your parents?" he asked sceptically.

She shrugged. He had a soft voice, although it was clearly commanding – not like her father's, though. His was just mean. "Home."

"And do they know you're here?" When she didn't respond, he took that as a 'no'. "Little girls have no business sneaking around and worrying their parents."

Quinn shrugged once again. "They won't worry. They don't mind me much," she said evenly. "My brother might, though. He's nice."

Snape frowned. He knew that tone. He knew those words. Resigned disappointment. He'd felt that oh so many times growing up. He didn't bring it up, though. The child needed to go – the more he looked at her, the more similarities and differences to Lily he'd cook up in his mind.

"I had an aunty with that name," he heard her declaring all of a sudden. His eyes flashed to the girl like arrows. He wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed her moving closer but, at that moment, she stood just a couple of feet away, looking at Lily's grave.

"What?"

"Lily," she said. "My aunt's name was Lily. I never met her but she was really pretty," Quinn told him. "I saw some pictures. She's dead now too."

Snape stared some more. A little girl who looked like Lily. A little girl with an aunt who shared Lily's name. No, he told himself. Coincidence… or maybe not. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. It was the grief and the stress… deceiving everyone could mess with a person. All the lying and theatrics… the constant need for occlumency… it was taking a hold of him. He knew he was already slacking at protecting the students from the Carrows – they were starting to get away with too much and he was too tired to fight every single battle. And the children just _wouldn't _learn to lay low – the amount of times he'd sent Alecto and Amycus on outdoors assignments in order to cover the meetings from Black, Weasley and Longbottom's little club was just staggering. He shouldn't even care about protecting them – they had it coming, after all, for being so bloody incorrigible. He'd made Dumbledore a promise, however, and was keeping it until his dying breath it for Lily – she certainly wouldn't have appreciated him allowing her son's girlfriend (although Ginny Weasley undoubtedly fought hard to make everyone believe she was anything but) and the girl who should have been her goddaughter to be on the wrong end of one of Alecto and Amycus's punishments. So, obviously, it was perfectly plausible for him to be exhausted… maybe to the point of hallucination.

"Was she your family?" Quinn found herself asking.

"A friend," he replied simply, wondering why he was even talking to the girl. He'd never been one to have patience for children and he was fairly sure that one wasn't even there. But all those similarities… it made him feel, even if just a little, like he was talking to Lily again.

"She probably misses you too," Quinn told him.

Snape sighed. Clearly a hallucination – it knew his feelings and everything… "I doubt it," he said.

The little girl frowned. "Why not? You were her friend. I miss my friends when they're away," she reasoned.

That sounded less like something he'd think up, but still… "I wasn't a very good friend," he stated.

"That's silly. You're here now. Why would you be here if you weren't a good friend? No one else is here visiting them – the people who died. You are, though," she said

He stared at the little girl. His mind had to be playing some elaborate tricks on him – because, really, he knew for sure that he wasn't anywhere near that forgiving, least of all with himself. He needed a good night of sleep and a round of mind-clearing potions. Maybe more.

"_Quinn!_" he suddenly heard someone calling from a distance.

The little girl turned around, startled by the call – apparently, the hallucination had a name; apparently it was Quinn; and apparently there were people looking for her, Snape concluded. To be honest, the whole thing was starting to feel a little too… complex for it to just be a hallucination. But what other explanation was there?

"Oh, that's my brother," Quinn said when she saw him coming her way.

Snape nodded as he saw the teenager running in their direction. The boy didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention at first, instead jus kneeling in front of his sister with a concerned look on his face. "Good god, Quinn, what got into you? I looked everywhere for you!"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't want to hear Dad yelling at you because of me.

"It wasn't because of you – he was just being an ar… he was just being Dad," Dudley assured her. "Don't do that again, okay?" It was only then he really perceived they were not alone. He stood up, facing the man by Quinn's side, and the first thing he noticed was that he dressed like Hestia and Dedalus did. That wasn't good. "Er… I'm sorry if she was bothering you, sir."

"She wasn't," Snape mumbled.

"Right. Good," Dudley said. "She can be pretty talkative sometimes. I suppose we can get going…" He stopped talking all of a sudden, though, when he got a glimpse of the name on the grave the man was visiting. Lily Potter… and right by it, James Potter. Harry's parents – he'd heard those names from Hestia and Dedalus when they told old stories of the first Order. Why was that man visiting their graves? Why were their graves there in the first place?

"Dudley?" Quinn said.

"Er…yeah," Dudley mumbled. "Let's just leave Mr…" he paused when he realised he didn't know the man's name "…let's just go home." And, with that, he promptly snatched Quinn's hand into his.

"Okay. Bye," Quinn told Snape. "It was nice to meet you."

The headmaster's only response was a nod even though, strangely, he felt like he could sincerely reply in the same manner.

He still wasn't sure what the girl was: a real child, the product of an elaborate hallucination, some sort of ghostly presence… Being her presence there coincidence or not, there was something about that girl, or at least his perception of her, that was very Lily… very healing. So, for once in his life, he decided to forego logic and take that as a sign. A sign that he was threading the right path, doing the right things to earn Lily's posthumous forgiveness.

With that, he conjured a white lily and placed it on its namesake's grave with a sigh. "Happy birthday, Lily," he wished his fallen friend.

Dudley spent the whole way home telling her over and over again not to do that again. Not to run away, not to go talking to strangers, not to scare him like that ever again. She nodded every time, feeling a little bit ashamed.

"I found her!" he shouted to someone behind her just as they stood just a few yards away from their house.

She turned around and spotted her mother coming their way. Running, in fact, at the same time she appeared to be crying, Quinn noted with some surprise. Crying a lot, apparently, as her eyes were really red and wet. When she reached them, her mother eyed her with strange eyes. Then, to her surprise, she picked her up from Dudley's arms and held her firmly against her chest. Hugging her.

Quinn felt herself tensing with the surprise. Her mother hadn't hugged her in a very long time or stroked her hair the way she was doing it at that moment. Quinn wasn't sure what to do faced with that – should she try to hug her back? Maybe that would make her mother pull away like she had so many times when she'd tried to reach out for comfort – but she didn't want her to pull away. Being hugged felt good…

"You're okay," Petunia was saying. "Oh, you're okay – I thought someone might've taken you." She pulled back a little to look her daughter in the eyes. Hers were still red and puffy, Quinn saw. "Where did you go, Quinnie?"

She gave her mother a suspicious look before answering. She hadn't called her 'Quinnie' in a long time either. Only Dudley did these days. "Away," she replied simply. "Dad was yelling at Dudley. I didn't like it. I don't like it when you do it either."

Petunia stared at her for several seconds before finding her voice. "I… I'm so sorry, Quinn," she said before turning to her son. "I am. Very sorry."

Dudley didn't reply to her apology. Instead, he chose to shift the conversation somewhere else. "I found her in the graveyard talking to a man. He was wearing this odd gown like the ones Dedalus and Hestia wear – I think he might've been like Quinn. Magical."

Petunia stiffened a little at the word but quickly got over it, turning her attention to Quinn instead. "Did he do anything to you? That man? Did he hurt you? Did he…?"

Quinn shook her head. "We just talked. He didn't know I was there at first… and I don't think he was mean. He was just sad. I think he missed the lady in the grave."

"The grave?" Petunia asked, alarmed.

Her daughter nodded. "Her name was Lily. Like your…" she stopped talking suddenly, recalling her mother didn't allow them to speak of her sister in front of her. Or Harry. Or magic. She usually yelled very loud when they did. "Can I be put down?" she requested. All of a sudden being in her mother's arms didn't feel so comfortable anymore.

Petunia did so and Quinn quickly went to stand closer to Dudley than to her. The older woman tried not to feel bad about it. It was, after all, her own fault that her daughter felt the need to get away from her. Plus, there were more urgent matters to be resolved at the moment. She turned to Dudley, then, "Did you see if the name was…?" she whispered

He nodded before she could finish and promptly confirmed her fear. "The name on the grave was Lily Potter," he informed her. "And the one right by it was James Potter's. Those were their names, weren't they? Ha…"

"Yes," his mother quickly confirmed before he could finish. "Yes, they were."

"But what are they doing here of all places. Did you know this was where they were buried? Did they live here?" Dudley asked. He paused for a second, then. "Did… did they…" he mouthed the word 'die' to his mother, hoping Quinn, who'd taken to start drawing shapes on the snow with a stick, likely trying to look distracted while attempting (probably unsuccessfully) to overhear some of their conversation, wouldn't catch it "…here?"

Petunia nodded. "Yes, I did know. And I they did… on both instances."

"At the house we're staying in?" he inquired, alarmed.

"No! Dear lord, no," Petunia assured him. "Our house belonged to one of her teachers. Her headmaster's family, I think. The place where _it_ happened was on the other side of the village. It's practically a pile of ruins now."

"And Dad still doesn't want to move, knowing that?"

His mother looked away. "Your father is a stubborn man."

"He's an idiot, more like," Dudley replied. "One thing is to settle in a village in no way connected to this… this war thing. But this… this is where it started, right? It's insane!"

"He's your father, Dudley. You need to be respectful – and talking that way about him surely isn't the way to achieve that. He's just looking out for your stability…"

"No, he's not. He just wants to have his way. Why do you keep taking his side? He treats you nearly as badly as he treats Quinn! I know you care for her in your own weird way but you always crumble to his will," he whispered furiously

"He's my husband."

Dudley gave her an incredulous look. "If that mattered so much to you, she wouldn't be here, would she?" he said, referring to his sister.

"Dudley!"

"What? Did he make that up? Because I didn't hear you denying it the other day, Mum," he pointed out.

"It's a delicate…"

"_Oh, you've found he_r!" they heard Hestia shouting as she approached them. "Thank Merlin. Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked Quinn just as she reached her.

She nodded in response, just then realizing what an amount of trouble she'd caused. They'd even summoned Hestia, and probably Dedalus too, to look for her! They _never_ summoned Hestia and Dedalus – the two of them just came to check on them every morning and it was long past that.

"Good. Gave us quite a scare, didn't you, Quinn?" the Order member turned to Dudley and Petunia. "Maybe we should get inside. It's not a good idea to just stand on the street unprotected these days. Shall we?"

Neither of the two responded. They just followed her in as she ushered Quinn inside. They found Vernon occupying a seat and the half of the living room sofa as he watched some news channel on the telly. He barely reacted when he saw Quinn was back – clearly, he didn't give a damn she was alright, just as he hadn't given a damn when Dudley noticed she was missing.

"So," Hestia started as they settled in the kitchen after she sent a Patronus over to Dedalus, saying they had Quinn. "What happened, after all? Why did you leave, Quinn?"

It was mostly Dudley who did the talking, as Quinn had gone very quiet all of a sudden. He told Hestia about looking for Quinn, finding her in the graveyard and the strange man visiting Lily Potter's grave, who he believed to be Magical.

"And you're sure he was one of us?" Hestia asked, scratching her chin with worry as Petunia took to expunging her frustrations on furiously scrubbing dishes.

"Well, no," Dudley admitted. "He didn't really use magic but he dressed like you and, well, he clearly knew my aunt, who was a witch."

The woman nodded. "Yes, I suppose those could be indications but…"

"He appeared out of nowhere," Quinn said. "Like you do."

"You mean he apparated?" Hestia asked, surprised.

Quinn nodded. "And he had a wand."

Dudley frowned. "Did he point it at you?"

"Just for a moment," she said. "I… I was spying on him. But he put it away when he saw it was me. He wasn't mean – just sad," she repeated.

"And what did he look like, sweetie?" Hestia inquires

Quinn shrugged. "Tall. Like a grownup."

Hestia chuckled. "Yes, but what colour was his hair? And his eyes?"

"He had black hair," the little girl said vaguely. "His eyes were sad but I don't remember the colour."

"And scars?"

"Like Harry's?" Quinn asked.

"Maybe. Anything out of the ordinary," the older woman told her.

Quinn shook her head. "I don't remember. Sorry."

"That's alright," Hestia assured her.

"Can I go?" the little girl asked. "I need to use the loo."

"Of course, sweetie. Go along. We'll call you if we need you," the Order member told her before Quinn got up and rushed out of the room, then up the stairs.

"It was her birthday today," Hestia and Dudley heard Petunia saying. She still stood at the sink, her back turned to them as she looked out the window while still holding a soap-covered plate.

"Whose?" Hestia asked.

"Lily's," the older woman replied. "I just remembered. The thirtieth of January."

"So, whoever it was, they were visiting her for her birthday," Dudley concluded. "Then it couldn't have been one of those Death something blokes. They were the ones who had her killed – why would they visit her on her birthday?"

"You have a point but it's hard to tell how their minds work, really. I wouldn't rule it out so easily," Hestia stated. "Still it could've been a friend. Maybe Sirius Black. He has black hair and Lily was his and his wife's friend."

Dudley shook his head. "I met Sirius Black and that wasn't him. I'd have recognized him. It wasn't Harry either. I'm sure of it."

"Or it could've been him in disguise," the witch stated. "We have very good disguises in the Wizarding World. It makes sense he would have visited his mother's grave on her birthday. It makes sense he would have been sad about it. And it certainly would make sense he'd disguise himself since he's on the run."

"I suppose… but he was looking at Quinn really oddly."

"Oddly?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Not sure how to describe it. Disbelief – like he couldn't believe she was there."

"Harry doesn't know where you are – he would've been surprised to find Quinn here," Hestia offered.

Dudley didn't look convinced. "Maybe. What do I know about this, anyway?" he mumbled. He wasn't a police inspector or anything… yet.

Hestia didn't have the chance to reply, though, as all of a sudden they heard Dedalus bursting through the house, calling his fellow Order member's name. "_Hestia!_"

The woman stood at once. "In the kitchen," she called back shortly before he entered the kitchen. "What's wrong? Didn't you get my Patronus? The girl is f…"

"I know she is. It's not that," the man declared.

"_What is the meaning of all this noise?"_ Vernon asked, bursting into the room.

"You need to move. _Now,_" Dedalus told him.

The larger man turned purple with anger. "This matter again? I've already told you we're done. We're not going anywhere! We're just fine here!"

"No. Trust me – you're not," he stated before turning to Hestia. "I dropped by Bathilda Bagshot's house to check if Quinn was there – she likes children so I thought she might have seen her walking around and invited her for tea. She wouldn't answer the door but it was unlocked – I couldn't find her anywhere, so I checked the basement…"

"No…" Hestia mumbled, getting the picture. "She'd _dead_?"

"Murdered," he specified. "It looked like it happened a while ago. I called Kingsley and he's over there right now. He says it looks like the job of a snake… a big one."

"You-know-who's, you think? The one that attacked Arthur?" asked Hestia, receiving a nod in return. "Merlin, the poor woman was a bit batty with age but she was harmless. Why would anyone kill her?"

"Do they even need a reason these days?" Dedalus inquired before turning to Vernon. "It's not safe here. You need to leave as soon as possible. Right now."

Vernon snorted. "What is it to us that a woman we didn't even know just happened to be murdered in this town? Why should I even believe you're saying the truth and this isn't just some big excuse to get us out of here? We're not going anywhere!"

"You are more than welcome to go and check the truthfulness of the story over at the woman's house," Dedalus offered, out of patience.

"Planted, no doubt. You people can do that sort of rubbish, can't you?"

"Dad, if they wanted to have us moved by force, there are far easier ways to do it that faking a murder," Dudley pointed out to his father. "Didn't you hear them? That evil bloke's snake was here and killed some old lady less than a mile away from us! Wherever they're taking us must be safer than here!"

"I will not have my life controlled by a bunch stick-yielding freaks!" Vernon shouted at his son.

"Vernon, at least listen. They're trying to help," Petunia intervened.

"Nobody asked for your opinion!" he shouted at her.

Dudley didn't stay to hear more. Instead, he simply walked out of the room and climbed up the stairs as his father kept on yelling at everyone within earshot. He found Quinn sitting on the last step before the first floor, clearly trying to eavesdrop.

"An old lady died?" she asked sadly.

Dudley shook his head. "Don't think about that. Listen, do you know that trunk in your wardrobe?" Quinn nodded. "Can you fetch it and throw your clothes and toys into it? No need to do it neatly – just throw it in there and we'll fix it later."

"Are we leaving?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Are Mum and Dad coming?"

"I don't know," he told her. "Do you want to stay with them if they don't?"

Quinn shrugged. "I want to stay with you."

"Then go pack," he urged her.

And so she did. They met outside their rooms ten minutes later, having packed on record time as the row still went on downstairs. Dudley carried both suitcases down the stairs, settling them on the hall before he headed back into the kitchen. His father was purpler than ever – the veins on his neck and forehead looked like they might just burst at any second.

"We're ready to go," the boy announced from the doorway.

And, all of a sudden, everyone yelling went quiet at the same time they turned to him.

"Go where?" Vernon yelled.

"Away. Wherever they think it's safe," Dudley told him, nodding at Hestia and Dedalus. "Quinn and I aren't staying here just waiting for someone to come one day and kill us like they killed that lady. If you want to stay, Dad, good luck. If you want to go, Mum, we'll wait for you to pack."

Petunia looked between him and Vernon with buggy eyes. "Vernon, please…" she begged.

"Be quiet, Petunia – don't you see the boy is bluffing?" Vernon shouted. "You can be assured it's not going to work, Dudley," he told his son.

"Then you can see us bluffing all the way out of the door, I guess," Dudley replied. He didn't care about enraging his father anymore – he was leaving and so was his sister. If his mother wanted to stay, that was her problem. "Mum?" he asked her one more time.

"I… I…" she stuttered. "Vernon, for the love of God, give in. It's just one more move!"

"He is bluffing!" the man insisted.

"Okay," Dudley mumbled, turning to Dedalus. "Can we go now?"

"I… I suppose," the man stuttered, looking at him very much surprised. "Are you sure you…?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Quinn! Come say goodbye."

The little girl walked from behind him, slipping into the room. She didn't go farther than a couple of feet past the door. There should have been hugs and kisses and tears but there were none. She was scared, of course – of leaving it all behind. Somehow she knew things would change forever from then on. But she had Dudley with her – she trusted he'd take care of her. "Bye, Mum," she said from where she stood.

Petunia didn't respond – she just stared at her children. They were leaving – they were really leaving. She watched as Quinn took her brother's hand and walk away, she heard suitcases being dragged on the hall and the front door clicking open. Vernon was wrong – Dudley wasn't bluffing.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Wait!"

Footsteps stopped and Hestia returned to the room. "Changed your mind?" she asked.

Petunia didn't respond, instead turning to her husband. "He's not kidding."

"I won't believe it until he's gone. He doesn't have the guts," Vernon stated.

"It will be too late then," she said.

"Then so be it!" he shouted.

The woman sighed and removed the apron she was wearing. "I hope you don't die over this, Vernon," she said, handing the apron over to him.

Quinn stood outside of them room, watching confused as her mother climbed up the stairs, begging for them to wait a few minutes so she could pack. "Mum's coming?" she asked her brother.

"Apparently," he replied.

"And Dad isn't."

"Apparently not," he stated with a sigh. "We're going to be fine, Quinnie. With or without him," he promised.

She smiled a little as she looked up. "I know," she told him.

Their mother came down a second later, carrying a packed suitcase as well. She took one last moment to urge their father to come but he refused again – he just told her that if they did leave, they'd come back crawling soon enough. Dudley told him not to hold his breath.

And even though she saw her father glaring at them – her, especially – all the way out as her mother picked her up and carried her out, not that she really needed it, Quinn got the feeling things might just change for the better then.

**A/N2: Hope you enjoyed - I'm working on finishing next chapter (pretty eventful, let me tell you) so I can post it sometime this week. Feedback is welcome! Review!**


	5. St Mungo's

**Title: **St. Mungo's

**Pairings: **Mainly Remus/Tonks

**Timeline: **Between chapter 64 and epilogue of _Brave New Hope_

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me - my writing is not for profit.

**Summary:** "Your Daddy's a big stinking idiot. And because he's a big stinking idiot, he just had to go and get himself all banged up and now Mummy can't leave his bedside because, even though he's that big stinking idiot, Mummy still loves him very much," Tonks explained her son, knowing there was no way he'd understand her.

**A/N: **A little follow up to fill in the time between the last chapter and the epilogue. Enjoy! **Read only after chapter 64 of Brave New Hope!**

**4 May 1998**

"I've just ran into Healer McDermot outside. He said it shouldn't be much longer."

Her mother's words were what brought Tonks's mind back from distraction-land, where it seemed to be crashing while she absently fed a sleepy Teddy. "What?" she asked, not having actually registered Andromeda's words.

"The healing coma," the older woman said, placing the sandwich she'd gone to fetch her daughter on a nearby table. "The healer said it shouldn't be much longer until it finished the job and wore off. Don't get too hopeful he'll be chatting away in an hour or so, though," she warned her daughter, based on her years of experience as a nurse – a job she'd been deprived of for months due to her late husband's muggle-born status and his need to go on the run. "I've seen patients stay out for hours even after healing comas wear out – not because there's something wrong with them," she quickly amended when Tonks started looking alarmed. "The body just needs a little time to rest from all that healing."

"Oh," Tonks mumbled. "That's… that's not so bad."

Andromeda nodded. "It isn't." She paused. "It's also almost time for Teddy and I to go back home."

The metamorphagus looked down at her son, then back up at her mother, shooting her a pained look, as if asking 'Do you really have to?'.

"You know it's the rules, Dora," her mother said. "They made an exception when I first brought him to you the first day because you were so upset, but they really can't allow infants to stay outside of visiting hours. What if he throws a fit? People are supposed to be resting in here, sweetheart. I don't like tearing Teddy away from you any more than you do but you know he can't possibly stay."

Tonks sighed, having tried to fight that battle before and knowing it was a losing one. She melancholically glanced down at her son again, only to note he was quite done with his meal. "Do you mind?" she asked, her mother, shifting the baby in order to pass him to her.

Andromeda nodded, fetching a burping cloth and placing it on her shoulder before picking her grandson up. She paced around the room with the baby against her shoulder, patting his back softly in hope of hearing a belching sound. Teddy seemed keen on taking his time, though, so she allowed herself a moment to look back at her daughter.

She truly looked dreadful, her Dora. Tired, on edge and much less colourful than her usual self, with that shade of brown on her hair that Andromeda had grown to associate with bad news. It tended to turn slightly more golden whenever Teddy was on her arms but, just as soon as he was out, the dreary brown was back.

If only Dora would allow herself her due share of rest… but she wouldn't, that stubborn girl. And Andromeda couldn't force her, unfortunately. Well, she could, honestly, but she liked to pride herself on avoiding her estranged family's conniving ways. Still, she had to admit she hadn't been as outraged as she ought to have been by Sirius's suggestion earlier that afternoon that they restrained Dora and shove a generous dose of sleeping potion down her throat. It just served to show the point they'd reached…

She couldn't put into words even if she tried the amount of fear she'd been overtaken by when Sirius had flooed her, not two hours after Dora had followed Remus into that blasted battle. And, although there had been relief when he'd promptly assured her that Dora and Remus were alive, fear had been back when she realized he was summoning her to St. Mungo's because the latter was badly injured and her daughter was nearing hysterics. She'd not hesitated in grabbing the baby and making a rush to the hospital, half-expecting to find Dora a widow (or very nearly) upon arrival. She'd been wrong and she'd been very thankful for it.

Remus had been a bit of a hard pill to swallow for her. She was past feeling bad for it: after all, the man was a werewolf – he'd be a hard pill to swallow for any parent at first. But, as time passed, and especially after her Ted had to go on the run and subsequently passed, she'd been able to see past the beast and into the man. A man who loved her daughter above all things. A man who would protect her if it cost him his own life. And a man who, eventually, had given her a reason to go on with her life after her husband had passed – her little grandson.

So, as Remus lay there, unconscious in his hospital bed, it wasn't just for her daughter's pain that she felt. It was for his own.

Against her shoulder, Teddy let out a little burp and she shifted him into a cradling position in her arms, putting the burping cloth away as she watched her daughter tiredly sigh while she brushed her husband's hair with her hand.

"You could come with us," Andromeda had to suggest, making her daughter turn sharply to her. "Just for a little while. You could take a long bath, rest in peace for a couple of hours…"

"I don't want to risk not being here when he wakes up," Tonks said.

"He won't like seeing you looking so tired."

"He can deal with it," she replied. "I just… I need to be here."

Andromeda sighed. "Well, I suppose Teddy and I can deal with another night on our own, then," she said.

Tonks looked quite guilty about it, even though her mother's tone had shown anything but accusation.

"We'll be back in the morning, Dora," her mother told her, approaching her in order to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now, you take this little boy back, I want to go and wish goodnight to the girls before we go," she told her told her daughter, referring to her former fellow nurses as she passed the baby over to Tonks.

As Tonks willingly took her son and Andromeda walked out of the room, the little boy yawned and aimlessly flailed his limbs around as his mother held him against her chest, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Mummy hasn't been very good to you lately, has she?" she asked her son, brushing the soft turquoise hair at the top of his head.

The little boy, as expected, didn't respond, although judging by the way he was looking at her with those newborn blue eyes he was still unable to morph away, she might just be telling him the biggest secrets in the universe.

"Your Daddy's a big stinking idiot. And because he's a big stinking idiot, he just had to go and get himself all banged up and now Mummy can't leave his bedside because, even though he's that big stinking idiot, Mummy still loves him very much," she explained her son, knowing there was no way he'd understand her. "So, you see, once the big stinking idiot you'll call Daddy wakes up, you can yell at him all you like for stealing Mummy away from you. He has it coming since he decided to go off to a big arse battle and try to leave Mummy at home. No sympathy from Mummy there."

Teddy obliviously stretched and yawned in her arms before closing his eyes, presumably starting to fall asleep. She rocked him softly in encouragement at the same time she walked silently around the room and, by the time her mother made it back into the room, Teddy was so deeply asleep that an explosion might rock the whole Hospital and he still wouldn't notice it.

"Honey, it's time," Andromeda said as she started collecting the random baby items that had been spread around the hospital room sometime during Teddy's stay of only a few hours.

Tonks sighed, mentally preparing herself to let go of her baby – her baby who'd been the one thing keeping her from losing it while waiting for her husband to wake up – once again for the night. She lifted up one of Teddy's curled little fists and placed a kiss on it. "Sweet dreams, little boy," she whispered.

Her mother collected the baby a few seconds later. "Are you really sure you don't want to…?"

"_Mum_," Tonks said, sounding exasperated.

"Alright, alright," Andromeda quickly agreed, defensively. She reached to kiss her daughter's cheek. "Try to at least get some sleep, will you?"

Tonks mumbled a reluctant word of agreement and, with that, her mother was off. Afterwards, she spent several minutes aimlessly pacing in the room, both mourning the night-long separation from Teddy and wondering how long it would be before Remus woke up. Soon, her tired limbs started protesting against her moving, all but forcing her to take a seat. That time, she chose to drag a chair near Remus' bed and sat there, waiting.

Of course, the waiting was about as eventful as watching paint dry. Soon, her whole body was protesting against the uncomfortable upright position the hard chair made her take. It was probably yearning for the more comfortable reclining one sitting at the corner of the room, but she chose to avoid it, knowing it was a sleep trap. Instead, she placed her arms on the side of the bed and tiredly sighed, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands.

Soon, her eyes were burning – not from tears but from the sleep-deprivation she'd (stupidly) been putting herself through. For a moment, she just had to tilt her head sideways and close her eyes in order to ease the burning. Although she promised herself not to fall asleep, she was basically done for it at that moment.

Sleep snuck up on her like a seasoned thief and kept her under its spell for hours. By the time it sprung her back into consciousness again, she could see faint signs of daylight softly lighting the room. In the background, she vaguely heard her name being called.

She lifted up once she heard it again.

"Dora."

She faced the source of the voice and found herself sitting there, looking back at her now-awake husband as her aching neck – thanking her for the awkward position she'd kept it as she slept – slowly murdered her. She didn't say a thing for several seconds – just stared. When she spoke, it was about the last thing her husband expected to hear.

"I want to hex you so badly right now," she mumbled.

He raised his eyebrows at her, probably wondering what to say in response. "What's stopping you?"

"You're in a hospital bed. Unarmed. One might say I have an unfair advantage," she told him, a little light-heartedly. Of course, said light-heartedness only lasted for a moment. "I thought you were dead."

There was a pause. "Up until now?" he asked, slightly confused.

"No! Before! When you… When it happened! I thought you were gone, you stupid, stupid man!"

His eyes widened a little. "I'm sorry, Dora. I don't quite remember what happened but the healer told me I fell from quite a height; that they kept me unconscious for two days."

"'Quite a height', he says," she mumbled to herself, before something caught her attention. "Wait, the healer? You've already been seen by a healer? How long have you been awake?"

"A couple of hours," he said.

"A couple of hours?! Why didn't you wake me?"

"It was five in the morning and you were sleeping like the dead. I didn't want to disturb you so early. And you know you're not exactly easy to wake up," he said.

She groaned. "Why do you always have to be so damn thoughtful? I want to be angry at you – I have a right to. You've just scared off about ten years out of my life," she said.

He sighed. "I really am sorry for scaring you like that, Dora."

"'Scaring me'? Try 'petrifying me to the bone'. I thought you'd _died_," she said. "When Dawlish told me what happened… I thought you were gone. Everyone thought you were gone. I didn't realize you weren't until I reached the Hospital Wing and Sirius told me otherwise."

He frowned. "The Hospital Wing? You went to Hogwarts?"

"Of course I did, you dimwit!" she nearly yelled. "Did you actually think I'd stay behind after you snuck out while I was asleep? Were you born yesterday?!" She had to restrain herself from actually smacking him.

"Teddy should have at least one parent alive, Dora," he said.

"No, he should have _two_," she replied. "And I bloody well had to try and make sure that happened. It killed me to leave Teddy behind to go to Hogwarts, but I knew he'd be perfectly safe at home with my Mum. You, on the other hand were risking your life against Merlin-knew-how-many Death Eaters. Sitting home and doing nothing or going out and making sure my husband didn't get himself killed? There's not even a choice there. And there wouldn't be for you either if the roles had been reversed – don't bother trying to convince me otherwise."

Remus sighed, knowing there was no way he could tell the truth and still win that battle. "So, what happened, really?" he asked, quickly shifting the conversation elsewhere. "The healer said he didn't know much – just what was on my chart. Apparently, he was just covering from someone else."

"You fell eight whole flours," she told him. "All the way from the seven floor down to the dungeons. There were no cushioning charms, no magical nets… you just plain freefell."

He stared at her for what had to be minutes. She was kidding. She had to be. Because there was no way… He was fine. Well, relatively fine – it hurt pretty much everywhere but he could safely call it bearable, as opposed to how he'd felt after some particularly bad full-moons. A fall like the one Tonks was describing should at the very least have crippled him for life, which was far from the case, according to the healer's assessment. But, even though it seemed unbelievable, something within himself, as if the look on her face wasn't enough to convince him, told him she wasn't lying. There was a vague memory on the back of his mind of him cutting through wind at an unbelievable speed. Strangely, it made it even more unbelievable. "How… how did I…?"

"Live? Survive without ending up a vegetable?" she asked. For some reason she laughed, which he found very much out of place. "This one you'll never live up: because you're a werewolf."

He looked at her blankly. "Because I'm a werewolf," he repeated in disbelief.

"If my dislocating a finger the first time I slapped you didn't give it away, you're made of far sturdier stuff than the rest of us common mortals," she told him. "And if it wasn't for that, you wouldn't be here talking to me right now. You wouldn't be alive at all, odds are."

Remus wasn't sure what to respond. Honestly, he was afraid of what he might say – everything in his wife's voice made it all sound very… painful to her. The thing was, so far, his close brush with death sounded like little more than a story to him. He had a feeling that was because he could barely remember it, so he figured that wouldn't last. But still, it somehow felt like Tonks was telling him someone else's story.

"I…" he mumbled, "honestly, Dora, I don't know what to say."

She sighed. "One would think cheating death would have you all eloquent," she observed before shaking her head. "Anyway, if you come up with words, put them into writing, would you? Sirius thinks we ought to send Greyback a Thank-You note on a fruit-basket, though he probably won't be able to appreciate the contents of it right now since Sirius apparently broke his jaw."

"Sirius broke Fenrir Greyback's jaw?!" her husband asked in disbelief.

She nodded. "Apparently he hit him across the face with a silver trophy a few times. I never did realize that weakness went beyond piercing weapons, but I suppose knowing this could be useful in the future."

"Don't tell me you're planning to get yourself some silver-lined gloves for next time you want to slap me," he said.

She looked thoughtful. "I'm considering it," she said, shortly. "Anyway, we won, in case you're wondering. The battle. The war. Harry took the bastard down."

"Yes, the healer mentioned it," he said, smiling. "He wasn't able to tell me who made it and who didn't, other than Harry obviously living."

Tonks nodded. "He did, but apparently not before giving everyone a bit of a scare, from what I hear – he managed to convince Voldemort himself that he was dead. Sirius said good old aunt Cissy helped him doing it somehow… Anyway, Sirius obviously made it too and so did Mia and Izzy. We lost a few from the Order: Sturgis, Dung… don't ask me what Dung was doing there. Probably just trying to get himself an Order of Merlin prize or something. He probably has it now, not that he'll enjoy much of it. Anyway, Kingsley made it too – he was here earlier today with Elizabeth. Do you know they've been engaged for months? Months! Even before Harry went on the run. I knew he was shagging someone – he just looked way too happy not to be getting any… Anyway, he offered me my job back for when I'm done with maternity leave."

Remus smiled. "I told you they'd want you back the minute things were back to normal."

She chuckled. "Things are not even remotely back to normal, but they're getting there. Bones is minister again – apparently, she wanted to convince the Wizengamot to create the position of Deputy Minister of Magic just for Kingsley but he ran like the plague. No wonder, really – the man just hates paperwork and the position just stunk of it. He's helping her in an unofficial capacity, though," she told him. "Anyway, I was in the middle of telling you about the battle before, wasn't I?"

He nodded. "You were telling me who made it – who didn't. Do you know anything about students? Did any of them not make it?"

She shook her head, indicating she wasn't sure. "I know some died, though I didn't really ask who because I barely know anyone who was there this year aside from Ginny and Izzy, who are both alive. Oh, Neville made it – he dropped by on the day of the battle after visiting his parents upstairs. And I saw Luna Lovegood with some bloke who was probably her dad yesterday when Mum forced me to go to the canteen."

"And those who already graduated?" he asked. "I recognized plenty of them at the battle from my year teaching. There was Wood, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson…" Tonks visibly swallowed hard at the last name, which was something he didn't miss. "Angelina?" he asked, just to make sure she was the name his wife had reacted too. "_The_ Angelina who's Fred's girlfriend? Is she…?"

Tonks nodded sadly, watching her husband's face fell.

"No. Merlin… poor Fred. He really adored that girl." He'd seen it first hand, knew how much Fred had loved his 'Angie', as he always called her, through his job at the joke shop. The longing looks, the over-the-top romantic gestures, the more embarrassing moments he'd willed himself to forget (the words 'Tea Time' would never quite sound the same to him after he and George had stumbled upon the true nature of Friday's Tea Time for Fred and Angelina). "How is he…?" He went quiet the moment he saw _that_ look once more on his wife's face. And that time, she looked positively heartbroken. "Dora?"

"I'm so sorry," she said before breaking the news. "Fred didn't make it either."

While he'd managed a few words about Angelina, at the news about Fred, he simply went quiet. There were no words, just no words, to describe exactly how wrong it was that Fred Weasley was dead. Gone. Forever.

He owed Fred and George Weasley more than he could ever repay them. They'd given him the chance no else had before – to have a steady job, to make himself a more than decent living, to work with something he'd grown to love. They'd been his friends more than his bosses and, in return, he'd been far more than just their shop's 'manager of all serious stuff' as they'd once put it. He'd put out fires those boys started by accident with their experimenting, reminded them to eat when they were entranced creating some new product they actually forgot to feed themselves and occasionally given tabs on them to their mother when they failed to show up home or floo her for too long. Merlin knew how many fines they must've paid to keep him working for them, especially after Voldemort had taken over and declared war on half-breeds – he'd lost count of how many times they'd laughed when he'd mentioned it and said it the fines were worth paying since it would take hiring three more people to compensate for the amount of work he usually did. And, even though he'd felt bad about it, he'd never seriously considered just up and quitting – because something about that job had made him feel at home.

Eventually, he'd realised what it was. Somewhere along the line, he'd ended up seeing Sirius and James every time he looked at those two. There was just something about them… every time he thought of it, he could have pictured them as his two best friends if they'd been born redheaded twins; Fred, like Sirius, was the boldest one, who'd be the first to jump into the joke and could hardly resist a bit of trouble, even if it could escalate to insane proportions; and George, like James, was the gentler of the two, quick to follow up to the joke but constantly mindful of the results so things wouldn't end up being taken too far when they reached said insane proportions; and together, both were smart as a whip and kinder than anybody could possibly believe. Now, Fred was gone and George… well, God knew how George must be feeling.

"The funeral was today… well, yesterday, I guess," his wife explained, having moved to sit on the edge of his bed sometime during his silence. Her hand was on his in a comforting manner, since not even her annoyance at him could keep her from caring about how fond Remus had grown of those boys. "I asked Sirius to pass along our condolences. The Weasleys are crushed, of course, especially George, but that's pretty much all I know right now. Sirius can probably tell you more when he comes by later."

Remus nodded solemnly. "It always seems like the universe is set against us when it's the great ones who die first."

"Not all the great ones," she said, looking pointedly at him.

There was a long moment of silence, which only ended when he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry you had to through all this, Dora," he apologized again. "I really am."

She took a breath, no longer set on giving him grief. "I suppose I did my own share of scaring you in the past, so let's just call it even. But you'd better not get near open wells between staircases in the foreseeable future."

He chuckled, unsure if she meant it or not. "Dora. You have to know that is literally impossible. There's an open well in the building we live on."

"Well, then I guess we'll have to move. You were talking about it before Teddy was born. And if you don't want to move, you can always apparate straight home," she pointed out. "No balconies, either."

"I really can't tell if you're joking or if you actually mean it," he admitted. "But if you do mean it, given your accidental-injury history, I may have a word to add about you getting near stairs or furniture that stands below your eye-level… actually, I might as well round it up into just furniture in general. Oh, and you should also avoid any sort of kitchen appliances… and bathtubs… and doors. And, since we're at it, Auror work has also landed you in a hospital bed a shocking amount of times…"

"Alright, alright. Fine – I get your point," she stopped him. "I suppose I could make a compromise and say no duelling near stairs, or open wells, or balconies. In return, I'll try to keep my freak accidents to a minimum," she offered. "Especially now – Teddy could probably use one parent that's not recovering from multiple injuries."

Remus felt his lips curl a little at the mention of his son. "Where _is _Teddy? With your mum?"

Tonks nodded. "She took him a little while ago. He spent most of the day here with us but the healers never let him stay at night." She paused for a moment, longing for her baby, who she wanted around her at all times. "He smiled the other day. Really smiled – there was cooing and everything. I wish you'd seen it."

He nodded sadly. "Me too." His eyes lit up suddenly afterwards, however, as something caught his eye. "Your hair is turning crimson."

Surprised, Tonks pulled a strand of it so she could it. "Yeah, I suppose it is. Don't get too comfortable, though," she warned him. "I'm still little pissed off you gave me the slip."

He sighed. "I will admit I didn't think that very through."

"No, you did not," she agreed. "And if you ever do something that stupid and end up dying on me, you'd better hope there's no such thing as an afterlife because you'll be very sorry when I get my hands on you over there."

All Remus could do in return was nod – he didn't plan to go anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

"Well, well, well, look at yourself, Mr Moony," Sirius said with a grin as, later that day, he entered the hospital room where his best friend lay on his bed reading a newspaper, as if he hadn't been as close to death as one could be just a handful of days before. Not very far on his right, a sleeping Tonks lay in a reclining armchair with little Teddy also napping on her chest, both covered by a blanket. Sirius grinned and turned back to his friend. "A little bird told me you might just partly be related to a cat, what with all the falling and getting away with it practically unscathed."

Remus looked over the newspaper and raised his eyebrows. "I have a chart at the end of this bed naming eleven broken bones, a severe head injury, numerous internal bleedings and two days in a healing coma that would disagree with you."

Sirius made a gesture with his hand, as if to say it didn't matter. It did matter. It had mattered a lot back when he was standing by his friend's bedside, where he lay broken and battered, wondering if he'd make it. But Sirius didn't want to think of that now. "What's all that after free-falling from seven floors? Eight if you count the dungeons," he pointed out before poking his head back out of the door. "_Oi! What's taking you so long? Get yourself in here – you know the rules._"

"_I was just tying my shoe, Dad!_" Izzy's voice called from the outside, before she walked into the room, looking rather miserable. "Hey, Remus. Nice to see you looking well."

"Yes, you too, Izzy," he replied, before turning to Sirius as Izzy sat down on a chair by the door. "Rules?" he asked, confused.

Sirius nodded. "Tell him, Izzybel," he urged his daughter, who groaned.

"I'm grounded," she mumbled.

"She's _very _grounded," Sirius added, taking a seat next to his daughter. "And why is that?"

She huffed. "Because I, in all my juvenile stupidity, decided it was a good idea to sneak my way into the battle against my parent's implied wishes instead of staying home, safe, like any right-minded sixteen-year-old should." She sounded more like she was reciting a recorded message than a person who actually admitting her faults. Sirius ignored that fact.

"And, as a result, this not-so-right-minded sixteen-year-old got herself chased across the castle by multiple Death Eaters, ended up stunned and earned herself a concussion on top of everything. Not to mention how later she managed to give her grandmother the slip and join the battle," Sirius added. "Which brings us to the punishment and its subsequent rules. Tell your uncle Moony about the rules, Izzy."

She huffed. "I always have to be in the same room as him… or Mum. Or Kreacher, when it's chore time." One would think Kreacher would be more merciful then her parents. Because he adored her, right? Wrong. He was even worse than them. She imagined it might be related to the fact that she'd escaped while he was supposed to be in charge. She'd apologized for that and he'd said he forgave her, but he might still be a bit hurt about it. She couldn't blame him, really – Kreacher was just one of many matters she'd screwed up at the day of that stupid battle.

"What? _All the time_?" Remus asked in disbelief. He seemed more surprised than disapproving of it.

"With a few exceptions," Sirius told him. "She can use the loo on her own, and from nine-thirty at night until eight-thirty in the morning, she can be in her room all alone if she wants. Harry can keep her company there for a little, but at ten-thirty, it's lights out. And, oh, when we're outdoors the 'being in the same room clause' becomes 'being within ten feet' of one of us."

"How did Mia come up with this?" Remus inquired.

"She didn't. _I _did. And it was fun," his best friend said, a little too excited about it for it to be healthy.

Remus never though he'd live to see the day Sirius Black actually enforced a strict punishment for misbehaviour. Actually, he very nearly hadn't. "And, just out of curiosity, how long is this supposed to last?"

"All summer," Izzy said in a monotone.

"With possible gradual reductions to the punishment, according to the good behaviour clauses," Sirius added. "We're not unreasonable. Say, if Miss Izzy here is a very good girl for the first month – which is already counting – we may consider extending chaperone privileges when she's at home or, say, visiting a family friend indoors, to Harry and the little ones, so that way she could be alone with them too."

"As if you're not just doing that so you and Mum get free babysitting," Izzy mumbled.

"If you want to be cynical about it, yeah. Why not?" her father told her before turning to Remus. "Hey, we could add Teddy to the scheme if you want. Not afraid of dirty nappies, this one." Izzy just huffed in response, which had Sirius chuckling. "Anyway, where was I?"

"Good behaviour clauses, I think," Remus provided.

"Oh, right, so after two months, we may consider letting her go out with her grandparents and other assorted trustworthy adults," he told his friend before turning to Izzy, suddenly reminded of something. "Oh, and I forgot to say the other day but the list of 'assorted trustworthy adults' does not include Harry."

She shrugged. "Fine."

That response had her father frowning. "'Fine'? What, no protests? No attempt to negotiate the punishment or anything? Who are you and what have you done to my daughter?" She'd been the same way the first time he and Mia had sat her down and talked about the punishment – apparently completely striped of all rebellion, she'd just nodded and went on with it. Of course, then he'd just thought she was too tired to show her usual sass, but he doubted that applied anymore, as she'd had plenty of time to rest since the battle.

Izzy sighed. "I'm just not in the mood, Dad. Why? Would it make you feel better if I gave you some grief?"

"Yes."

She huffed, deciding to throw him a bone. "Why not Harry? He's almost eighteen. Technically speaking, he's an adult." But her voice came out far too monotonous for her displeasure to sound real.

"Oh, forget it," Sirius said. "Though, for the record, the reason why the list of 'assorted trustworthy adults' does not include Harry is because he's been your partner in crime since the cradle. I'd trust him to enforce the rules on you as much as I'd trust myself to do the same for Prongs or Moony. Which, by the way, I wouldn't."

"That's a well-thought point," Remus had to admit.

"Thank you, Moony. Anyway, on to the post-third month clause, good behaviour equals no chaperones at home. Chores remain but only at Kreacher's discretion. Anything to add, Izzy?"

"Hum?" she mumbled, distracted.

"The post-third month clause. Anything you recall that I left out, aside from the lack of home chaperones and chores left for Kreacher to decide?" he prompted. Izzy just shrugged, which, once more, made him frown. "Merlin, Izzy, you're killing me here. I purposely left out the part where you get relative freedom for Harry and Ginny's birthdays so you'd call me out on it. Which you didn't. Are you ill? Is that why you're acting all weird?" he asked, already reaching to feel her forehead.

She pushed his hand away. "I'm fine. Look, I don't care what punishment you give me – I screwed up and I had it coming, so do what you want and I'll go along with it." She really just didn't have it in her to fight back. George's words still sounded in her mind every time she found herself distracted, reminding her of just how badly she'd messed up. And, just to add to it, he'd not only been avoiding her since the battle but also his entire family: according to Ginny, aside from Fred's funeral, he hadn't been to the Burrow once and sent everyone packing when they went knocking on his door. She couldn't help feeling responsible for that – her words had been what had triggered the worst of his grieving and now, not only were they coming back to bite her in the arse but also pretty much everyone's arses. She couldn't believe how monumentally badly she'd screwed George Weasley up.

"See? That is something you'd never say," her father said.

"Well, I'm saying it, so clearly it is," Izzy replied in annoyance before getting up. "Can I step out? I need to use the loo." It was a lie, really. She just needed some time alone and hiding out in the loo seemed to be the only way to get it these days.

Sirius sighed. "Fine. But come straight back." The moment she was out the door, he turned to his best friend, looking confused. "Any idea what's wrong with that kid? Am I being too harsh or something?"

"_No, you idiot. She's fine with the punishment – she's just upset about something else,_" a bleary voice said from his right.

Both he and Remus turned, only to find Tonks sleepily rubbing her closed eyes on the armchair she'd been sleeping on. Teddy, however, remained asleep, drooling all over his mother's chest, who didn't seem to mind it in the slightest.

"Upset about what?"

"I dunno – do I look like a mind-reader to you?" she replied a bit crankily. "Look, odds are, it's the battle. I moped for weeks after my first real assignment at the auror office – it was violent and bloody and… terrifying. Just the kind of thing that gets to you. And your kid has just personally taken part on one of the bloodiest battles in history. Odds are, she lost someone or other over there – Fred, if not someone else as well. Just give her some time – she probably won't stay like that forever."

"So what? I just wait and do nothing?" he asked.

"Yes. For now, at least. She'll come to you if she wants to talk, so don't pester her – not unless she's still that way like… six months for now or something. Just let her be – you'll see she'll probably be bitching about that insane punishment of yours before the summer is over."

Sirius sighed – she sounded like she might have a point and that did seem like good advice. He just wasn't sure if he'd be able to follow it. He vowed to try, though. "So, how long have you been listening?"

"A while. You're bonkers, you know? How can you possibly remember so many clauses in some stupid punishment?" she asked her cousin.

"Oh, I had Kreacher get me one of those record-making quills they use in trials for the Wizengamot so everything would be put into writing," Sirius replied.

"Oh my god, it's actually in writing?" Remus asked, flabbergasted. "Are there witnesses too? Signatures with a blood quill and everything?"

"Don't be ridiculous – who do you think I am? Dolores Umbridge or some other sadistic ministry bureaucrat?"

"Oh, _that _is what's ridiculous," Tonks commented sarcastically, shifting the baby as she sat straighter, so his head rested sideways on her shoulder.

Sirius turned to Remus, choosing to ignore her. "Anyway, punishments aside, you look good, mate. When do you think they'll spring you?"

"Maybe at the end of the week," he said.

"But he's got his own good behaviour clauses. Don't you?" Tonks asked her husband, getting up. "Partial bed rest for the first week. No heavy-lifting…"

"…which does not include Teddy," he reminded her.

"Which does not include Teddy as long as it's in small doses," she half-agreed before placing her sleeping son in his portable bassinet. "Not to worry, though. Now that the war is over and I can show this little heartbreaker around the way he deserves, I'm sure there will be plenty of contenders to hold him. Speaking of which, where's the proud godfather? And Mia, for that matter," the metamorphagus asked.

"Oh, they were coming around the back of the hospital," Sirius told her. "Izzy and I came through the front door to distract the reporters. Bloody vultures, those idiots – they're all competing to be the first who gets a quote from Harry Potter himself. Anyway, I don't need to tell you this hospital is bloody huge and the back entrance couldn't possibly be farther away from this wing, so odds are they're still on their way. Mia would've sent me a Patronus if they'd gotten ambushed anyway. Oh, and Ginny's coming along."

"Oh," Remus mumbled. "I thought she'd be with her family. Dora told me about…" He couldn't even say it. "How is George dealing?" he had to ask.

Sirius sighed. "You'd have to ask him yourself. He won't talk to anyone about it. The funeral was yesterday – he showed up, stayed for as long as it went and then was off the minute it ended. Molly's worried. Arthur thinks he just needs space. I honestly don't know. I try to relate through James but, Merlin, those boys have been attached at the hip since before they were even born."

The werewolf nodded sadly. "It's hard to even think of what to say about that… Tragic comes to mind but it doesn't quite sound adequate enough."

"Exactly," Sirius agreed.

There was a long moment of contemplating silence, which Remus only dared to end after a respectable minute. "So, anyway, I heard you had some sort of face-down with Greyback. A very literal one. Something about a silver trophy…"

"Oh, yeah. The bastard tasted it good," Sirius said, newly grinning. "I hear his bite might never quite be the same – apparently, the trophy broke his jaw pretty badly and the healers weren't in a hurry to fix him up or to do their very best at it, given his history. So even after he's past feeding out of a straw, he might want to adapt to a diet that doesn't involve food that requires a lot of gnawing like, say, human flesh. Not that they'd serve him much of it in Azkaban, anyway. I predict he'll grow quite fond of Unidentified Thursday Gruel over there."

Remus looked quite touched by his words. "Thank you for that," he said, genuinely grateful. He'd been hoping to get his hands on Greyback for quite some time – something about having a son of his own made him particularly sensitive to what a danger Fenrir Greyback was by manipulating his transformations so they'd lead to him attacking small children as young as toddlers, either it was to kill them or to turn them, the way he'd turned him. Remus been painfully aware that Teddy was at risk of one day becoming one of Greyback's targets for the simple fact that the older werewolf saw him as a traitor to the Werewolf nature for refusing to fully give himself to the wolf every full moon.

"You're welcome – it's less than the bastard deserves but I figured that if one of us had dibs at killing him, it'd be you," Sirius said, just as a knock on the door announced Harry and Ginny's arrival.

"Oh, there's the guy of the moment," Tonks said cheerily, barely giving Harry the chance to say an awkward 'Hello'.

"Hey, where's your godmother?" Sirius asked, noticing his wife's absence.

"She stayed with Izzy," Ginny responded for Harry. "We ran into her heading to the loo when we were coming here. Apparently all the ones in this ward are patients-only for some reason."

"Yeah – stupidest thing this hospital has ever come up with," Tonks confirmed before turning to Harry again as she casually sat on the edge of Remus's bed. "Anyway, should I ask for your autograph now or is it too soon?"

Harry actually blushed. "Please, don't."

By his side, Ginny smiled in amusement over the thin shadow of sadness over the loss of her brother that still occupied her face. "He's a bit traumatized – nearly everyone we ran into in the hallways asked him for one," she told Tonks.

"Damn… Should've gotten one years ago – might be worth a few galleons now," Tonks observed. "Really. There's this shop in Diagon Alley that sells all sorts of things – a couple of years I ended up there because Mad-Eye was looking for this… I dunno, some sort of alarm thingy to add to his bloody collection. Anyway, they had Gideon Crumb's autograph – that's the Weird Sister's bagpipes player, the one all the girls throw their knickers at…"

"Excuse me?" her husband asked, looking positively shocked at that statement.

"Not me! Why would I waste perfectly good knickers on some bloke with too much makeup when that'd only mean I'd have to go out and buy more? You know I hate shopping. Besides, I've no idea what's supposed to be so 'sexy' about playing the bagpipes in a kilt. _Filch _can play the bagpipes in a kilt…" she paused for a moment "… maybe that's where my aversion comes from. But anyway, the bloody autograph was supposed to cost five galleons. Five galleons for someone's dirty napkin with a signature on it! How mad is that? Honestly, I kind of felt like arresting the owner for attempted robbery."

Sirius snorted. "Well, I guess you've got the road paved to make yourself another fortune by signing away stuff, kid," he joked, turning to his godson.

Harry groaned. "Why can't everyone just be happy the war is over and… just forget about me?"

"Oh, come of it. You saved the world – people are bound to care for a while," Ginny told him. "I'm sure it's going to die down at some point."

"Ginny is right," Remus agreed. "You've always been famous. At least now that it's all over they'll have to run out of headlines at some point. Not be rude, but I doubt ten years from now people will care about the boy-who-lived being spotted in Diagon Alley having an ice-cream or browsing for a new broomstick. Fifteen minutes of fame, the Muggles call it."

"Yeah. By then there will be some sort of Quidditch shocker or a politician resigning in disgrace to steal the front page," Tonks supplied. "I can see it now: '_Chudley Cannons win championship for the first time in over a century – single remaining fan, Ronald Weasley, watches in delight from the empty bleachers'_," the metamorphagus recited, making Ginny burst into laughter, something she'd very rarely done ever since Fred had passed.

"'_Wizarding world in outrage as head of department is found frolicking with three Veelae and a goblin in his own office during working hours. Resignation expected soon',_" Sirius added.

Although Tonks couldn't help letting out a snort at that one, she soon rolled her eyes. "You just couldn't keep it classy, could you?"

"Hey – you're the one who brought up politicians resigning in shame!" Sirius protested.

"Yeah – for embezzling or… I dunno, trading favours. Not holding a multi-species five-way orgy in their office," she replied.

Remus cleared his throat, looking just as uncomfortable as Harry and Ginny were at the moment. "Can we please change the subject? I'd rather not have Teddy's mind sullied by the word 'orgy'."

"Or mine," Harry mumbled.

"Hey! You're a normal kid now," Sirius told his godson. "Enjoy the fact that the only trauma you're sure to suffer from now on will be embarrassment-based like any other teen."

Harry groaned, though his lips curled a little, as if he was looking forward to an embarrassment-based life rather than a threat-based one.

"So, Harry," Remus started. "How are Ron and Hermione doing?"

"Oh, they're fine. They were supposed to have come with us but Hermione got an owl from the Ministry saying they located her parents and were bringing them back into the country and Ron went with her to get them. She'd sort of… tricked them into leaving the country for their own safety," he explained.

"Tricked them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"How do you trick your parents into leaving the country?" Tonks inquired, curious. "Really, I must've wished to be able to do that about… a thousand times when I was a teen and I never came up with a way that wouldn't get me in a lot of trouble afterwards."

Harry looked nervous. "Er… it's a long story." It wasn't – she'd simply obliviated them. Still, he wasn't sure if Hermione wanted that little detail to be widely known.

Tonks eyed him suspiciously but said suspicion was washed away by Ginny's next words. "Hey, did you two know Hermione and my stupid brother finally saw what everyone's been seeing for years and got together? As in together _together_?"

"Took them long enough," the metamorphagus commented. "So, how awkward was it to be on the run with a newly-formed couple?" she asked Harry. "The PDA must've been through the roof."

"I wouldn't know – they only got together the day before yesterday," he pointed out. "During the battle, actually. And, unfortunately, right in front of me."

"Really? It took them that long? After living in close quarters for such a long time?" she asked, receiving a nod in return. "Wow. I wouldn't have lasted a day."

"He would," Sirius said, nodding at Remus, who glared in return

"Anyway, speaking about couples and all that, I take it the two of you have patched things up," Tonks observed, noticing how Harry and Ginny's hands were oh-so-casually touching as they sat.

"Yeah, about that…" Harry started.

"There wasn't really anything to patch up, actually," Ginny said.

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"They mean the breakup was a ruse," Sirius said. "They thought that if everyone knew they were a couple, Ginny might be a target as well, so…"

"… they staged a very public breakup at Dumbledore's funeral," Remus said, easily guessed where his friend was going.

"Really? It was all a ruse? Even the slap?" the metamorphagus asked in surprise. "Because you looked really shocked when it came."

"That might be because the slap wasn't exactly part of the plan," he pointed out, giving Ginny a slightly annoyed look.

"She seems to have a thing for hitting him in public," Sirius said, very amused. "You should've seen the smack she gave him the other day for playing dead. I nearly felt it myself."

"He had it coming," Ginny said, glaring at Harry in all seriousness.

"Well, looks like there's no need for your plan after all, Dora," Remus told his wife, who looked a little disappointed.

"What plan?" Ginny asked, curious.

Tonks sighed. "Just a little masterpiece of my own creation… I was planning to pull the 'godparents' card and make the two of you babysit the baby together when he was really cranky just so you'd bond over what a precious little nightmare he could be and maybe eventually get back together," she said, earning herself several odd looks. "What? I had no job and a lot of free time to think back when I was pregnant. Minding other people's business was a nice way to pass time until Teddy came. And speaking of which," she said, getting up the moment she heard a whimper coming from the portable bassinet, "someone's decided to grace us all with his wakefulness." She said, lifting the baby up and holding him upright against her chest. "Want to meet your godparents, little one?"

Teddy yawned against her shoulder and peered quite sleepily at Harry and Ginny as they approached.

"So, this is Teddy?" Ginny asked, eyeing the little boy with a smile. She reached to touch his little hand and, the moment she did, the little boy's previously bluish hair started to take a dark red hue, clearly inspired by Ginny's locks. "Oh, red hair!"

"Seems to be he wants to be a Weasley. Hair he the only thing he can change for now, though – no pig snout for the little one for the foreseeable future," Tonks told her. "So, which one of you two wants a shot at holding him first?"

"Well, Harry did make the world safe for him to grow up in, so I suppose he's earned himself the right go first," Ginny offered in a diplomatic manner.

Harry's faced turned into mild panic. "Wha…?"

"Harry it is, then," Tonks agreed, promptly depositing the little boy in his godfather's arms before he could say another word. When she looked up to find the 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' standing wide-eyed and positively panicked as he held the baby, the metamorphagus raised her eyebrows. "Are you alright, Harry?"

From his seat, Sirius snorted. "Every time," he said, completely amused.

"Oh, come on, he's held babies before," Tonks pointed out. "Alex, Mary…"

"Yeah, but every time you hand a kid over to him for the first time, he acts like you've just passed him a bomb," Sirius explained, still grinning. "Don't worry, it's just a little quirk of his. He'll be over it in a few minutes once he's sure Teddy won't melt away or explode. But it's fun to watch while it lasts. You should've seen him when it was Mary – he almost dropped dead the moment she threw a fit on his arms."

"Leave him alone," Ginny defended her boyfriend before giving him a supportive look. "Do you want me to take him?"

Harry shook his head, though he still looked rather terrified.

"Alright, let's sit down, then," the redhead urged him.

Just as the young couple sat on a couple of chairs at the corner of the room getting to know their godson, Izzy and Mia stepped in through the open door.

"You took your sweet time," Sirius told his daughter.

"Hey, the loo was miles away! Besides, I was with Mum. You never said I had to be with _just _you," she replied, sounding a little annoyed.

Sirius nearly grinned at that – for a moment there, she almost sounded like the usual Izzy. Whatever Mia told her or done to her while they were gone, it seemed to be working.

"It's my fault, really," Mia said apologetically. "We ran into Seamus Finnigan and his grandparents on the way back. We ended up being held up setting up a play date for Alex and Darcy for tomorrow. It's been ages since they had one. But never mind that – look at you, Remus Lupin," she said, smiling at their old friend. "One would think you're a completely different person from the one lying right in front of me just two days ago."

"I may be in better shape but I'm fairly sure they move me into a different body," he replied, chuckling lightly. "And from what I hear, you're one of many people I should thank for that. Maybe it's time you start considering coming back into healing."

She made a face. "I think my healing years are firmly in the past – I don't mind bringing it back every once in a while when it's really needed but I'm far too happy with teaching these days."

"Now more than ever," Sirius added. "Did you hear McGonagall invited her to be the new head of Gryffindor?"

"She didn't invite me," Mia quickly corrected him. "She asked me if I'd consider possibly stepping into the position next year. Septima Vector is also being considered. The two of us are currently the only two teachers with a Gryffindor background at the school."

"Hey! What am I? Chopped liver?" Sirius protested.

"You are the Quidditch Referee," Tonks replied. "If you're anything like Madam Hooch was, all you do aside from refereeing is occasionally overseeing the House Teams' trainings and giving a handful of flying lessons to first-years. That is semi-teaching, at the most."

Sirius glared. "It's _fantastic_ semi-teaching, I'll have you know. The kids _love _me."

"That's because you'll let anyone get away with anything," Ginny commented from her seat, purposely interrupting her cooing to Teddy just so she could point that out.

"She'd say otherwise," Sirius replied, pointing at his currently grounded daughter, who just sighed.

Mia cleared her throat. "_Anyway_, nothing is set in stone."

"Of course it's set in stone," her husband replied. "Vector doesn't even teach a mandatory class. Besides, all she cares about is her Arithmancy research. The job is practically yours – you're the new McGonagall," he declared before turning to Remus with a grin. "Can you believe I'm married to the new McGonagall?" His face fell the moment he said it, though. "Wow – that sounds kind of wrong when I say it out loud."

"Then don't say it," his friend wisely suggested, rolling his eyes.

"McGonagall is probably going to be pretty busy this summer trying to put the school back together," Tonks observed. "Not to mention all the job interviews she'll have to hold… I wouldn't want to be in her shoes right now."

Mia nodded. "Me neither. They're rounding up volunteers to help rebuilding the school. We've already signed up to help. As for the vacant teaching positions, there's Muggle Studies and DADA, as far as I know. Slughorn is also making noises about going back to retirement so Potions may also join the list if they don't convince him otherwise. Flitwick is helping with that, though – he's acting as Deputy Headmaster now."

"Hey, if you want to go back to teaching, I'm sure they'd welcome you back with open arms," Sirius told Remus – he was, after all, the only former DADA teacher from Harry's time that wasn't either dead, in the loony bin or in prison. "Did you hear about the new non-discrimination policies on all species and blood-statuses that Bones is putting into place? I think they announced those in yesterday's Evening Prophet. As long as you pass some psychological tests and agree to take the Wolfsbane potion, they can't pretty much refuse you a job anywhere based on your furry-little problem."

Remus nodded, already pleasantly aware of that fact, having read it on one of many newspapers his mother-in-law had brought to keep him entertained and up-to-speed about what was going on in the world. "I'm sure they would be very welcoming but, as much as teaching was wonderful, the joke shop has become sort of a second home to me these days. And I think I'll be needed there now more than ever," he said, reminded that Fred was no longer part of the picture.

And, once again, a long moment of silence swept over the room like a wave, fuelled by the mention of the joke shop and, by extension, its owners. Only a handful of baby sounds from Teddy, who unsuccessfully tried to reach up for the glasses on his godfather's face, sounded in the room.

"Okay, enough with the long faces," Tonks demanded of everyone at some point. "The war is won and we're all alive. It's sad that we had to lose people we cared about for that to happen, but I'm sure all those who gave their lives so we could have _this_ would be more than happy if we enjoyed what we still have instead of moping."

Sirius smiled. "My cousin, everyone. Couldn't have put it better myself," he proudly boasted before stretching on his chair. "So, what do you reckon we can do around here for fun? We can't let Moony pull the mother of all survival twists just to go and die of boredom in some hospital room."

"Believe it or not, regular people of our age don't have the attention span of a two-year-old that makes them get bored every five minutes. That's just you," Remus pointed out, although his friend chose to ignore it.

They ended up taking up a more intellectual sort of entertainment, which seemed to suit Remus best at the most, by combining efforts into trying their luck at finishing the Daily Prophet's crossword puzzle, which was actually so huge – filling a whole broadsheet newspaper page – and so bizarrely difficult – including themes ranging from Alchemy to Muggle Culture – that for over three decades they'd been offering a daily prize of a hundred galleons to the first person who was able to correctly fill the whole thing within twenty-four hours of the newspaper's printing without magical help. People won it so rarely, that the winners actually ended up making the front page themselves most of the time. Of course, intellectual as the activity might be, they could always count on Sirius to squeeze the oddest kinds of fun out of making crossword puzzles.

Later, they were joined by Andromeda and, shortly after, by Charlie, Bill and Fleur Weasley, who stood in for Molly and Arthur since the older couple was very deep into mourning.

All twelve of them managed to get away with being there all at once for about an hour before a stern-looking female nurse with the built of a seasoned Beater showed up and kick nearly all of them out, saying only three visitors were allowed at a time. The mood was high enough that they didn't waste much time fighting the nurse, instead making plans to follow up to the visit the following day

At the end of the day, despite all they'd lost, they'd won what they'd been fighting for.

A future worth living.

**A/N2: I hope you all liked the little moment post last chapter of Brave New Hope. This is not the epilogue - that one is still being developed. Feedback is welcome! Review!**


End file.
